#and to a WAR CRIMINAL i mean that was kind of to be expected
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crosshair being a new found gentleman was NOT on my season 3 bingo card
#and to a WAR CRIMINAL i mean that was kind of to be expected#but being a GENTLEMAN#meme#star wars#sw tbb#the bad batch#star wars the bad batch#tbb#memes#tbb season 3#tbb spoilers#the bad batch star wars#crosshair#tbb crosshair#the bad batch crosshair#ventress#tbb ventress#asajj ventress
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“If buying isn’t owning, piracy isn’t stealing”
20 years ago, I got in a (friendly) public spat with Chris Anderson, who was then the editor in chief of Wired. I'd publicly noted my disappointment with glowing Wired reviews of DRM-encumbered digital devices, prompting Anderson to call me unrealistic for expecting the magazine to condemn gadgets for their DRM:
https://longtail.typepad.com/the_long_tail/2004/12/is_drm_evil.html
I replied in public, telling him that he'd misunderstood. This wasn't an issue of ideological purity – it was about good reviewing practice. Wired was telling readers to buy a product because it had features x, y and z, but at any time in the future, without warning, without recourse, the vendor could switch off any of those features:
https://memex.craphound.com/2004/12/29/cory-responds-to-wired-editor-on-drm/
I proposed that all Wired endorsements for DRM-encumbered products should come with this disclaimer:
WARNING: THIS DEVICE’S FEATURES ARE SUBJECT TO REVOCATION WITHOUT NOTICE, ACCORDING TO TERMS SET OUT IN SECRET NEGOTIATIONS. YOUR INVESTMENT IS CONTINGENT ON THE GOODWILL OF THE WORLD’S MOST PARANOID, TECHNOPHOBIC ENTERTAINMENT EXECS. THIS DEVICE AND DEVICES LIKE IT ARE TYPICALLY USED TO CHARGE YOU FOR THINGS YOU USED TO GET FOR FREE — BE SURE TO FACTOR IN THE PRICE OF BUYING ALL YOUR MEDIA OVER AND OVER AGAIN. AT NO TIME IN HISTORY HAS ANY ENTERTAINMENT COMPANY GOTTEN A SWEET DEAL LIKE THIS FROM THE ELECTRONICS PEOPLE, BUT THIS TIME THEY’RE GETTING A TOTAL WALK. HERE, PUT THIS IN YOUR MOUTH, IT’LL MUFFLE YOUR WHIMPERS.
Wired didn't take me up on this suggestion.
But I was right. The ability to change features, prices, and availability of things you've already paid for is a powerful temptation to corporations. Inkjet printers were always a sleazy business, but once these printers got directly connected to the internet, companies like HP started pushing out "security updates" that modified your printer to make it reject the third-party ink you'd paid for:
https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2020/11/ink-stained-wretches-battle-soul-digital-freedom-taking-place-inside-your-printer
Now, this scam wouldn't work if you could just put things back the way they were before the "update," which is where the DRM comes in. A thicket of IP laws make reverse-engineering DRM-encumbered products into a felony. Combine always-on network access with indiscriminate criminalization of user modification, and the enshittification will follow, as surely as night follows day.
This is the root of all the right to repair shenanigans. Sure, companies withhold access to diagnostic codes and parts, but codes can be extracted and parts can be cloned. The real teeth in blocking repair comes from the law, not the tech. The company that makes McDonald's wildly unreliable McFlurry machines makes a fortune charging franchisees to fix these eternally broken appliances. When a third party threatened this racket by reverse-engineering the DRM that blocked independent repair, they got buried in legal threats:
https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/20/euthanize-rentier-enablers/#cold-war
Everybody loves this racket. In Poland, a team of security researchers at the OhMyHack conference just presented their teardown of the anti-repair features in NEWAG Impuls locomotives. NEWAG boobytrapped their trains to try and detect if they've been independently serviced, and to respond to any unauthorized repairs by bricking themselves:
https://mamot.fr/@[email protected]/111528162905209453
Poland is part of the EU, meaning that they are required to uphold the provisions of the 2001 EU Copyright Directive, including Article 6, which bans this kind of reverse-engineering. The researchers are planning to present their work again at the Chaos Communications Congress in Hamburg this month – Germany is also a party to the EUCD. The threat to researchers from presenting this work is real – but so is the threat to conferences that host them:
https://www.cnet.com/tech/services-and-software/researchers-face-legal-threats-over-sdmi-hack/
20 years ago, Chris Anderson told me that it was unrealistic to expect tech companies to refuse demands for DRM from the entertainment companies whose media they hoped to play. My argument – then and now – was that any tech company that sells you a gadget that can have its features revoked is defrauding you. You're paying for x, y and z – and if they are contractually required to remove x and y on demand, they are selling you something that you can't rely on, without making that clear to you.
But it's worse than that. When a tech company designs a device for remote, irreversible, nonconsensual downgrades, they invite both external and internal parties to demand those downgrades. Like Pavel Chekov says, a phaser on the bridge in Act I is going to go off by Act III. Selling a product that can be remotely, irreversibly, nonconsensually downgraded inevitably results in the worst person at the product-planning meeting proposing to do so. The fact that there are no penalties for doing so makes it impossible for the better people in that meeting to win the ensuing argument, leading to the moral injury of seeing a product you care about reduced to a pile of shit:
https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/25/moral-injury/#enshittification
But even if everyone at that table is a swell egg who wouldn't dream of enshittifying the product, the existence of a remote, irreversible, nonconsensual downgrade feature makes the product vulnerable to external actors who will demand that it be used. Back in 2022, Adobe informed its customers that it had lost its deal to include Pantone colors in Photoshop, Illustrator and other "software as a service" packages. As a result, users would now have to start paying a monthly fee to see their own, completed images. Fail to pay the fee and all the Pantone-coded pixels in your artwork would just show up as black:
https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/28/fade-to-black/#trust-the-process
Adobe blamed this on Pantone, and there was lots of speculation about what had happened. Had Pantone jacked up its price to Adobe, so Adobe passed the price on to its users in the hopes of embarrassing Pantone? Who knows? Who can know? That's the point: you invested in Photoshop, you spent money and time creating images with it, but you have no way to know whether or how you'll be able to access those images in the future. Those terms can change at any time, and if you don't like it, you can go fuck yourself.
These companies are all run by CEOs who got their MBAs at Darth Vader University, where the first lesson is "I have altered the deal, pray I don't alter it further." Adobe chose to design its software so it would be vulnerable to this kind of demand, and then its customers paid for that choice. Sure, Pantone are dicks, but this is Adobe's fault. They stuck a KICK ME sign to your back, and Pantone obliged.
This keeps happening and it's gonna keep happening. Last week, Playstation owners who'd bought (or "bought") Warner TV shows got messages telling them that Warner had walked away from its deal to sell videos through the Playstation store, and so all the videos they'd paid for were going to be deleted forever. They wouldn't even get refunds (to be clear, refunds would also be bullshit – when I was a bookseller, I didn't get to break into your house and steal the books I'd sold you, not even if I left some cash on your kitchen table).
Sure, Warner is an unbelievably shitty company run by the single most guillotineable executive in all of Southern California, the loathsome David Zaslav, who oversaw the merger of Warner with Discovery. Zaslav is the creep who figured out that he could make more money cancelling completed movies and TV shows and taking a tax writeoff than he stood to make by releasing them:
https://aftermath.site/there-is-no-piracy-without-ownership
Imagine putting years of your life into making a program – showing up on set at 5AM and leaving your kids to get their own breakfast, performing stunts that could maim or kill you, working 16-hour days during the acute phase of the covid pandemic and driving home in the night, only to have this absolute turd of a man delete the program before anyone could see it, forever, to get a minor tax advantage. Talk about moral injury!
But without Sony's complicity in designing a remote, irreversible, nonconsensual downgrade feature into the Playstation, Zaslav's war on art and creative workers would be limited to material that hadn't been released yet. Thanks to Sony's awful choices, David Zaslav can break into your house, steal your movies – and he doesn't even have to leave a twenty on your kitchen table.
The point here – the point I made 20 years ago to Chris Anderson – is that this is the foreseeable, inevitable result of designing devices for remote, irreversible, nonconsensual downgrades. Anyone who was paying attention should have figured that out in the GW Bush administration. Anyone who does this today? Absolute flaming garbage.
Sure, Zaslav deserves to be staked out over an anthill and slathered in high-fructose corn syrup. But save the next anthill for the Sony exec who shipped a product that would let Zaslav come into your home and rob you. That piece of shit knew what they were doing and they did it anyway. Fuck them. Sideways. With a brick.
Meanwhile, the studios keep making the case for stealing movies rather than paying for them. As Tyler James Hill wrote: "If buying isn't owning, piracy isn't stealing":
https://bsky.app/profile/tylerjameshill.bsky.social/post/3kflw2lvam42n
If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:
https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/08/playstationed/#tyler-james-hill
Image:
Alan Levine (modified)
https://pxhere.com/en/photo/218986
CC BY 2.0
https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/
#pluralistic#playstation#sony#copyright#copyfight#drm#monopoly#enshittification#batgirl#road runner#financiazation#the end of ownership#ip
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obsession (hjp)
pairing: harry james potter x fem!reader AU (18+)
summary: harry potter (19) is attending university after hogwarts, and isn't recovering well from the war. completely alone, harry soon grows attached to you, the girl from his potions class. however, his attachment quickly turns to obsession, and harry isn't sure how much longer he can be just friends.
content warning: smut!!! perverted thoughts/acts, shame, masturbation, stalking, obsession, yearning/pining, intoxication, jealousy, stealing panties, dry humping, cumming in pants, oral sex, overstimulation, penetration, creampie
a/n: sooo i wrote over 19k words in like 2 days. but i haven't written a proper fanfic in literal years so please be kind. heavilyyy inspired by "never have i ever" from @selfcarecap , please go read it when you have the chance!! this is very much a SLOW BURN, do not proceed if you do not thoroughly enjoy pining…ft. a shy, inexperienced, slightly obsessive university student harry who has jealousy issues and perverted tendencies but is still such a complete gentleman…some of this might not be book/movie accurate…sue me...
song: Do Friends Fall In Love? - Rachael & Vilary
harry's expectations of university weren't very high to begin with, but he didn't expect it to be this shit.
there were limited options for him since he had no desire of leaving the U.K. to further his career as an auror. and since the only 2 schools that offered a program for him were either an old, run-down campus in the middle of nowhere or an overpopulated city school known for its infamously average quidditch team, his decision wasn't difficult.
the dorms, however, made him reconsider entirely.
though harry was grateful to have a solo room, it was entirely bleak and smelled vaguely of mildew. one tiny window he's unable to open past a few inches and a depressing overhead fluorescent bulb was enough to have him searching the other university's dormitory information, only to be just as disappointed with the result.
harry gets over it quickly, as it becomes fitting to his mental state at the time. plain, cold, and unforgiving, harry feels like it's what he deserves to live in after everything he's seen.
to say harry hadn't been doing well after the war was a criminal understatement. his whole life had been leading up to and dedicated towards killing voldemort before he killed harry first. in that time, he held a purpose and drive to fulfill everyone's expectations of him. and, once he did, he was left with nothing.
voldemort had consumed harry's entire life, and the lives of everyone around him as well. though they technically both died, harry had the choice to live again. after he made that choice, he was never the same.
the relationships around him were changed forever. he lost friends. he lost family. he lost himself. and yet, life continued.
applying for university felt so silly to harry at the time. he had just fought in a war and died, and now he had to sign up for 9 a.m. transfiguration classes. to say he was uninterested was putting it lightly.
it didn't help that he knew no one there. it was nobody's first choice school by any means, and it didn't exactly have the best reputation. his classmates fizzled out into other schools or already had jobs, like ron…
ron and hermione. seems like lately wherever hermione went, ron followed. of course she got accepted into some of the most prestigious schools of magic in the world, with some practically begging her to pick them over the others.
in the end she chose westminster, a legendary university along the northern ireland coast that saw many great members of the ministry in its time. harry's school was practically the furthest it could've been from her all things considered.
ron worked for the ministry office in the area like his father, though he was more like an assistant or secretary than an active member. still, he was paid well and ultimately he and hermione were able to find a place near both of their priorities that worked well for them.
harry knew he wouldn't see them very often at this point. no matter, his relationship with them had long since changed, and not for the better. ron had lost his brother and hermione had lost her parents. once the calm settled after the storm, there was a lingering tension between him and them that went unmentioned for over a year before they split ways silently.
harry still talked to hermione towards the end, mainly to discuss ron and his grief. harry knew the growing coldness between him and his friend wasn't unjustified. harry felt a level of guilt that he previously thought was impossible when it came to fred, and though ron never out right blamed harry, it was just never the same between them.
harry knew their relationship wasn't completely at a loss. like hermione told him, it just needed time. once they both process what happened they can always come back to each other.
but for now, harry was alone. completely and utterly alone.
his first day of classes were confusing, boring, and packed with students. seriously, every seat in every lecture hall was filled, and the hallways were just a mess. the sidewalks weren't much better with too many people being too loud, walking too slow or too fast. in the end, harry was exhausted by the time he showed up for his last class of the day.
another packed room despite his effort to be there earlier than he planned. rather than a lecture hall like all his other classes that day, this last one was set up with plenty of tables and cauldrons. potions. harry loved this class at hogwarts. as his eyes scanned the room for an empty seat, he felt eyes fixated on him from every direction.
though he looks like the same harry potter everyone's read about, he's completely different now. his once bright eyes and radiant smile have been replaced with eye bags and unkempt facial hair. both his short beard and his overgrown hair gave him a messy, disheveled appearance that was rougher than people remember. but, as always, the glasses had never left, and neither had his scar.
ignoring the curious glances and whispers, harry takes a seat towards the middle of the room at an empty table. as more students filed in, his table became the last place to sit. he couldn't help but feel like an outsider, his first day and he already had a reputation.
as the final bell rings, the last student comes walking through the doorway.
it's you.
you're walking quickly, rushing into the classroom just as the ringing of the bell comes to an end. right behind you is the professor, a man of small stature with an impressive beard yet bald head.
"ms. [y/l/n]." he simply states.
you stop in your tracks, a look of defeat crossing your face as you slowly turn to him.
"professor rodden." you respond cheerfully. "it's nice to see you."
he looks unimpressed with your tone.
"we should try to be a bit more punctual next class period, hm?" he asks condescendingly.
harry is taken aback by the immediately intense interaction between the two of you. there's clearly an established relationship there that doesn't seem to be positive.
he can't see the look on your face as your back is turned to him, but he can hear the forced smile in your voice as you cordially respond, "of course. my apologies."
you turn on your heel, facing harry as you quickly find your seat across from him at his table. with all eyes on you, harry looks away and at the front of the room towards professor rodden.
rodden had an indistinguishable look on his face about the situation, but quickly moved on with introducing the class. as he shut the door and began writing on the board, harry took a moment to look back at you.
somewhere in that time you had pulled out a book and ink pen as you began taking notes. your hair fell around your face as you concentrated on your penmanship; a slight furrow of your brows and pursing of your lips.
you were gorgeous. he couldn't deny it.
something about the way you got lost in your notes was so mesmerizing to him. the intense exchange between you and the professor seemed to have no effect on you as you continued to scrawl your thoughts onto parchment. harry couldn't imagine himself being so calm as to just begin jotting down notes immediately after such a conflict.
his eyes flickered from your concentrated expression to your ferociously moving hand, writing line by line in succession without so much as a second's pause. he had to admit he was impressed with you, but he wasn't quite sure how to describe it.
finally, you felt his curious gaze on you.
looking up at him, harry's struck with how beautiful your eyes were. his heart jumps along with his stomach, he's never had such a physical reaction to someone's features before. you're just, so…right. like everything about you just makes sense together.
harry's used to people recognizing him pretty quickly, mostly before he even sees them first. it almost feels like having a big sign taped to his back that says "harry potter, the boy who lived twice". but, you…you just looked at him. simply looking, nothing more.
he felt so see-through at that moment, like you were looking right past him. he could feel his heart thumping, and would be surprised if you couldn't hear it for yourself.
you give him the most casual smile in the world, barely an acknowledgement of his existence in that moment, and yet it fills him with something entirely warm and familiar. he's sure he looks completely lost staring at you, turning his head at the last moment to relieve you of his gaze.
it's a simple, introductory, first day of class. you're all let out half an hour early with no assignment other than to show up for the next, real class on wednesday.
as you're packing up to leave, harry is back and forth between introducing himself to you or letting you leave. surely you'll talk to him at some point during this class, right? especially if no one else seems to sit with you two for the rest of the semester.
but, as you turn your back to him to leave, he makes the split second decision that he can't let you leave without a proper introduction.
quickly gathering his books, harry follows you out the door along with the ridiculous amount of students flooding the halls. scrambling for a reason to talk to you, harry catches up to your left side as you look over at him with surprise.
"how does rodden have it out for you already, hm?"
it's a genuine question he has, but he's not sure it's a great topic to bring up during your first interaction.
looking up at him as you both walk away from the classroom, your cheeks go red as you chuckle dryly to yourself and look away. "oh, arthur?" you ask.
harry's shocked. not just at the way you're looking at him, but the boldness of calling your university professor by their first name so casually. he doesn't know how to respond.
"he's a total wanker," you say with a smirk. "had him 3 semesters in a row now and he just…ugh," you groan, rolling your eyes. harry is even more at a loss. he's surely never called anyone a wanker, let alone a professor, but he can't help himself from laughing at your frustration.
"oh? what's so bad about him?" harry asks as he continues to follow you outside, a cool breeze blowing your hair back in the most cinematic moment harry's ever experienced in real life. as you look up at him, your eyes catch the sunlight and practically melt him on the spot. his breathing hitches at your shy smile and rosy cheeks, and he just couldn't understand how a human could look like that so casually.
"honestly, he's not so bad. he's actually quite a good professor…" you say with a twinge of guilt, turning to look ahead of you. "he just doesn't like me, i guess. we don't see eye to eye, to put it kindly." you laugh it off.
harry doesn't understand. you seem like such a pleasure to be around, and he's only known you these past few minutes. how could anyone dislike you? especially when they're looking into those eyes.
he continues to walk with you, asking about your classes and what your schedule's like. no other classes together, to harry's disappointment, but it's because you're a year above him.
"wow, have any advice for a first year, then?" he asks. it feels like a bit of a silly question, but he just wants to keep talking to you.
you chuckle, like you do after everything he says. he's not sure what to make of it, hoping it's that you truly do find him that funny. "well, i guess i would just tell you to study constantly, keep to yourself, but don't take any shit." you smirk at him again.
he likes that advice. he can already tell you're the type to not let anyone push you around, like with rodden. he likes that about you. you're a bit more confident than him, and you're not afraid to be bold despite your naturally sweet, gentle nature. you're funny, witty, intelligent, and, of course, unbelievably beautiful.
harry just keeps coming back to it through your walking and talking together. every time he looks at you he instantly loses his place in time. it's like everything goes quiet for just that split second that you're looking at him. he's never felt like this, but he's practically addicted to the feeling after the 10 minutes it took for him to walk you to your next class.
before parting ways, he asks for your name. "well, it's nice to meet you then, [y/n]. i'm–" "harry, right?" you ask sarcastically, giving him a cheeky smile. normally that answer would have left him defeated, you already knowing who he was, but for some reason, it didn't feel so bad this time. you never acted like you knew him once this whole conversation. you just let him talk and ask questions without feeling like he was anyone special.
well, of course he felt special. when you looked at him, that is.
he didn't want to let you leave, it physically hurt him to say goodbye. but he wasn't about to creep you out already. no, he had to make a good impression with you. so, he simply turned around and walked away, knowing he would see you again soon.
and as harry walked to his potions class that next wednesday, he had the biggest pep in his step he's had in a while. you'd think there was a tree full of presents waiting for him in that classroom the way he practically jogged through the maze of people between him and you.
as soon as he walked in, he saw you.
how could you get even more beautiful than you were before? he's actually taken aback for a moment as he makes eye contact with you. his heart is so loud in his ears it's deafening. as he slowly makes his way towards the table left for you two, he can't help the goofy smile that spreads across his lips.
"[y/n]." he says, letting it roll of his tongue. you smile warmly at him, your eyes softening. "harry. it's nice to see you again," you chirp.
he's just mesmerized by you yet again, the way you say his name is like a song he never wants to turn off. he's pretty much in complete awe of you as he sits across from your seat.
you chat a bit before class starts, an introduction to your first experiment. professor rodden explains that each table of four will split into partners for each assignment. as harry instinctively looks at you, he's already meeting your eager gaze.
he can't help it when he smiles like a fool at you. he can just hardly believe someone as amazing as you would want to spend even more time with him.
after class, you gush to harry about how excited you are to be potion partners together. his face completely flushes as he tries to return the sentiment, thanking whatever luck he has in this universe to be deserving of this opportunity to be with you all semester, twice a week at least, not including outside studying and walking you to your next class.
that night, after exchanging numbers with you to "discuss class", he finds himself staring at the number you scrawled on a ripped piece of notebook paper along with your name. he just holds it for a while, tracing the curves of your name with his eyes. you're just so amazing to him in every little way.
weeks later, harry is a wreck.
you see, he's become, well…completely obsessed with you. every moment he spends awake is spent thinking about you. in the midst of hours-long homework sessions or mind-numbingly long exams, all he wants to do is think about you.
you two have become increasingly close over time, figuring out your commonalities and learning about each other's interests. you invited him to your dorm and he was amazed at your ability to dress up such a desolate space. it felt warm, inviting, and quickly became a common place for you two to spend your time together.
you also bonded over food, and would often meet up for lunches or dinners and sometimes even breakfast if you were up early enough to respond to his calls.
and you two were always studying together, you really inspired him to stay on top of his classes not only to keep up with you but to also impress you. he really admired your work ethic as a second year and would always ask for your help with assignments.
of course it was nice to have help, but he mainly just wanted you to sit closer to him, your breath hitting his cheek as you explained something complicated to him in your soft voice, pointing at the book that sat in his lap. you could read the most boring textbook to him and make it sound like the most interesting piece of literature in the world.
a lot of things he did were mostly just an excuse to have you pay attention to him in some way. if he felt a bit unwell, he'd play it up a bit to get your sympathy and a back rub. he still gets the most insane goosebumps thinking about your hands all over him.
if he was hungry, he was suddenly starvinggg and needed one of your amazing grilled cheese's made in the student common room kitchen. you would roll your eyes every time, reminding him that you don't do anything special to it, but he insists it's better because you make it specifically for him.
in short, he was head over heels for you. he pretty much knew that first day you two met that he was already smitten with you, but it took a while for him to fully realize just how deep he'd gotten himself into this.
not only had he learned your entire class schedule without asking you directly, he knew your schedule outside of class as well. not through any disrespectful tactics, he just so happened to always study at the library next to your dorm building with a perfect view of the door you go in and out of.
he also knew who all of your friends were, at least the ones he's seen you with so far. it's not difficult when the university yearbook practically gives away their books for free to get rid of them. that's also how he found out what clubs and organizations you're apart of, and knew exactly what to ask you to get you to talk about them with him.
see, some might see this and think harry's a bit creepy or overstepping some boundaries. and harry would agree.
he constantly feels guilty when it comes to his feelings for you. he's a complete gentleman when he's with you, but then he turns around and becomes this incessant stalker who needs to know what you're doing at all times.
that's not even the worst part. he feels so, so incredibly guilty about the thoughts he has of you.
harry's not one to feel shame from lust or masturbation, he doesn't have much experience with that stuff anyways so he never really understood the hype around it.
but now, things are different.
he's had random erections before, and he's gotten riled up from previous makeout sessions, but now, he was constantly horny.
all it took was an innocent look from you and he was hard. you often sat in your bed with him as you two studied and insisted on having a leg or arm touching him at all times, which made him completely hot and bothered. certain tones of voice you use or things you say to him can completely melt his brain on the spot.
this isn't meant to brag, harry felt truly awful for these one-sided thoughts. he felt like such a stereotypical man who thinks with his dick. the last thing he wanted was to make you think he saw you in a sexual way at all; he hated your stories about guys who only turned out to be sex fiends with no respect towards you. his blood boiled to think about it, actually, and swore to himself he would always be your friend first despite what he may feel towards you.
this is where the guilt was heaviest. you were constantly saying he was your best mate, one of your closest friends, someone you can really trust, and he held that so close to his heart. above all else, he cared about you so deeply. he wanted to keep you safe.
so when he started to think these thoughts or feel these feelings, harry beat himself up. how could he truly be a good friend to you if he was just so obsessed with you in every way?
you two had just finished up the last steps of your potion experiment for professor rodden's class in the library that harry frequented by your dorm building. as you and harry are talking and packing up to leave, you look out the wall of windows and laugh.
"hey, look. you can see my dorm perfectly from here." you say, pointing towards your building. harry freezes, feeling his mind go blank as you look back at him with a laugh. "little creepy," you say with a smirk, lifting your bag over your shoulder and the rest of your books in your arms.
harry is still frozen, terrified you're going to somehow figure out that that's exactly what he's been doing for the past month now.
"yeah, weird." is all he managed to get out.
as he walks you into your dorm, he barely has the door closed before you start taking your shirt off right in front of him, not even 3 feet away.
harry immediately turns around, letting the door close in front of him. "oh, sorry." he quickly mutters, his heart racing yet again. he didn't even see anything crazy, just the small of your back and the navy of your bra, but it was enough to immediately get him worked up.
he hears you laugh behind him, opening up your drawer. "you don't have to turn around, harry. i'm just changing my shirt." he can hear the smirk in your voice.
he's dumbfounded. all he's thought about for weeks is your body in front of him, and it's right here, and he can't bring himself to look. he feels each second pass by painfully slow, trying to answer himself as to why the fuck he's not turning around.
"okay, you can turn around now." you laugh as you roll your eyes at him. he slowly turns to you with an undoubtedly pale face and shocked expression.
you're standing at your drawer, new shirt fully on, and he can't help but feel a bit disappointed. he didn't want to make you uncomfortable by watching, but you seemed okay with it. he's a bit lost in his feelings before you start asking him about something completely irrelevant, taking his mind off the mini-show he just got for free.
that night he's lying in bed, room completely dark except his bedside lamp, and he's thinking of you. like always.
as he replays the moment you took your shirt off right in front of his eyes, he finds himself grabbing for his cock without even meaning to. his hand wraps around the shaft as he begins thrusting his hips, imagining it's your hand like he has so many times before. it only takes a few seconds of stroking and thinking about your blue bra before he's made a mess of himself.
cleaning up afterwards was always the most guilt-ridden part of the entire experience. it was bad enough he thought of you sexually and constantly got hard just from you looking at him or calling him a loser as a joke, but to actually jerk off to the idea of you is something else entirely.
he tried not to get too down about it, plenty of guys do this right? whats so wrong with it if it doesn't affect his relationship with you?
except, it does. harry doesn't know how much longer he can go without telling you how he feels. the guilt he feels every time you refer to him as your best friend, not knowing he spends almost every night cleaning up his own cum off his chest just from thinking about your smile. how would you feel finding out your so-called best friend had these perverted thoughts about you?
as harry falls asleep, he hugs his pillow and pretends its you, asleep in his arms, completely safe.
it's halloween, and harry's never been more excited.
you enthusiastically asked if you could do a matching costume with him, and he'd never been so quick to agree. wearing a matching costume with you to a university party was possibly the first step in becoming a real couple. he wasn't necessarily thrilled about going to a party, but he knew if he was with you he would enjoy himself no matter what.
you couldn't decide what you two should be until harry suggested pirates as a joke.
"oh my gosh, harry! that's perfect!" you said with a huge smile. harry laughed at you, shaking his head. "really? i was kidding." he deadpanned. you narrowed your eyes at him. "yes, really! i think it'd be so cute. and i have the perfect top."
harry gets excited once you say it's cute, and is just happy to be included in your plans.
you take harry shopping just a few days before the party to find pirate-like clothes and end up with a good collection of stuff. at the last minute, harry pays for everything you bought and you give him the biggest, warmest hug he's ever gotten.
yeah, that was enough for him to know this was worth it.
the night of the party, harry feels a bit ridiculous walking up to your dorm in such a billowy white button up and the most uncomfortable, oversized pants he's ever worn. to top it all off his bandana didn't look right on his head, so he embarrassingly knocked on your door and waited for your reaction to his failure of a costume.
when you opened the door, he was stunned into silence.
you were just. so. hot.
your hair was loose around your face under a perfectly tied bandana, an off-the-shoulder white top similar to his worn over a red lace bra, along with ripped fish net stockings under a tied skirt and, shit, a fucking garter wrapped around your thigh.
to say he was insanely turned on and completely stunned by your beauty was an understatement. he couldn't believe this gorgeous woman in front of him was dressed like this to match with him at a party in front of everyone. he just couldn't stop staring at you up and down, not caring if you noticed him practically drooling over you.
"you look so cute!" you exclaimed at the sight of harry standing at your door.
he looked up at you, your soft eyes wide with excitement as you clasped your hands together. you motioned for harry to come in and opened the door further for him. he slid past you into your dorm room, intentionally breathing in your scent as he did, and practically fell apart at the seams. he was so, so attracted to you right now.
"but, let me fix that bandana." you say with a giggle. he turns around and you're already reaching for his head. his breath gets caught in his throat as your arms wrap around his head, retying the bandana tightly just below his hairline. you pull away a bit and smile at him before looking down at his shirt, reaching for that as well.
harry carefully watched your fingers begin to unbutton his white shirt, his world stopping in its tracks in this moment. he was so lost until you said, "gotta show off the chest hair."
as you continue to adjust his shirt with the top buttons undone, he can't help but admire your body and outfit from this angle, this close. everything worked together so well on you, and fit you perfectly in every spot. he felt like such a joke standing next to you, who could ever compare to such a goddess like yourself?
on your way to the party just outside of campus, you felt chilly in just a skirt and cropped top. harry noticed instantly. "cold?" he asks. you nod, crossing your arms in front of your chest as you start to shiver. harry instinctively wraps an arm around you before he can even process what he's doing. "uh, is this any better?" he inquires.
you look up at him with those damn eyes, and he's lost once again. "a lot better." you say sweetly.
at the party, you stick with him for a bit until a few friends pull you away to do some shots. he gives you a reassuring smile as he tells you to go, and he watches your barely-covered ass as you run along.
and so do a few other guys.
harry notices at least 3 guys around him who watch you leave, and at least one of them makes some snide comment about you to a buddy. his blood boils like he's never felt before. he could feel himself tensing up as he imagined what he would do to them if they ever tried to touch you.
harry takes a deep breath and finds a bathroom, running some water over his face to calm down. you were not his girlfriend. not even close. but he felt like any other guy who looked at you was looking at what was his. he was there for you 24/7, he knew your favorite everything, he saw how beautiful you were in all your states, not just dressed up at some costume fraternity party, and though that gives him no right over you, he just couldn't help but feel protective over someone who means so much to him.
you find each other again at some point during the party, and you're a bit drunk. harry finds it somewhat amusing at first, but quickly hates the way those guys are looking at you again. so, he wraps your arm around his waist, tells you it's time to go home, and you mindlessly abide.
on the way home he's completely in awe at the feeling of your arm wrapped around his waist, and his around your shoulder. he felt like you looked like a proper couple, matching costumes and all, and he loved that thought.
as he walked you into your room, you immediately began stripping off your accessories. he was caught in that same predicament he found himself in not too long ago. does he casually let you unclothe in front of him or turn around and give you the privacy you deserve?
he quickly decided on the latter and turned away, making sure the door was locked for your privacy. you started giggling infectiously, stumbling around behind him. "you ok?" he asked with a smirk, amused at the sound of you struggling.
"no, need helppp," you whine, slurring your words slightly while still giggling. harry freezes. he hadn't even considered that you might be too drunk to get undressed by yourself. he's even more conflicted than before.
"m-my help?" he asked. obviously he knew the answer, he just didn't feel right taking your clothes off of you while you were intoxicated. "well duhh…" you giggled, taking another stumbling step behind him.
what should he do? if he says no you might feel like he's annoyed with you or doesn't want to help you out, when that couldn't be further from the truth.
before he can make a decision, you turned him around, his eyes landing on your glazed over eyes.
you had taken off the bandana and gotten your shirt partially off before asking harry for help. he's a bit startled to see you half dressed in front of him, but he quickly makes the decision to be professional and friendly about this situation.
he helps you take off your shirt the rest of the way, and unties your skirt around your waist. harry tries to divert his eyes as he does so to give you the most privacy possible in this moment, though his mind was pushing the most sinful thoughts he could muster.
his hands were shaky as he put both your skirt and top in the laundry, not even noticing how hard and fast his heart was beating until he took a moment to breathe.
just behind him, he hears you take a seat on your mattress. "can you take my shoesss pleaseee," you whine, sticking your left heel in the air towards harry.
the sight that beholds him in this moment is unholy.
you, practically naked except for your underwear and fishnet stockings, pointing a bright red heel at him with a pouty face as you wait for his help. he could devour you whole right here, right now. the fact that he hasn't kissed you yet tonight honestly had harry impressed with himself.
he nervously swallowed before reaching for your shoe, carefully sliding it off your foot as you gracefully lift the other leg towards him. he takes that heel as well and sets them next to your other shoes. he reaches in your closet for a big, comfy t-shirt and turns around to give it to you.
he sees you on your back, rolling around on the mattress, struggling to get your fishnets off, laughing to yourself as they get tangled on your legs. harry cant help but laugh at you as well, your carefree intoxicated state was just so adorable to him.
harry briefly helps you out of the stockings before handing you the t-shirt. "here, is this okay to sleep in?" he asks, putting the stockings on your dresser. "yeah!" you say cheerfully. "thanks, harryyy," you coo. harry immediately blushes, the way you carried out his name just made his heart sing. he was so lucky to be this close to you.
"gotta take this off," you say, pulling at the straps of your bra. harry nods and turns away. you giggle softly, grabbing for his hand. he turns to you in shock, looking down at your hand as you stand up from the bed.
"help me?" you ask seductively.
harry is frozen. are you meaning to be so overtly flirty right now? is this a bit from the alcohol? are you about to start laughing him off and put the shirt on anyway?
but you don't, you just patiently wait for his answer with puppy dog eyes. he glanced between you and the t-shirt in your hand, clearly a worried look taking over his expression.
"you don't have to," you say softly. that snaps harry out of his daze. "n-no, of course i'll help," he says eagerly. you smile again and turn around, gathering your hair to one side to get it out of the way for him.
harry has never been so aroused in his life. this is the most intimate he's ever been with anyone. he's never unclasped a bra before, and worries he's about to make a fool of himself in front of the most beautiful girl in the world.
but he soon figures it out and manages to unclasp it for you. "there you are," he assures you. you slowly turn around, your arms crossed in front of your chest as you hold the bra up. harry's completely infatuated with the delicious sight of you in front of him in this moment, but quickly diverts his gaze to an uninteresting part of the room.
"harry, do you want to see my boobs?"
harry snaps his head back at you with concern. his brows are furrowed and mouth agape. you have a genuine expression but your eyes are still a bit bloodshot.
"wh…what?" he choked out. he can't believe you asked that, even in this state. you've truly never showed interest in harry like this before, only subtle touches and looks that he interpreted how he wanted, but never anything like this.
well, unless you count the other day when you undressed near him.
but that was friendly, wasn't it? you were just changing, lots of friends change in front of each other. but this was completely different, you were purposefully exposing yourself to him. not only that, but you were asking him if you could, as if it wasn't the only thing he wanted in this moment.
"do you wanna see my boobs?" you ask again, giggling slightly.
harry blinks a few times, trying as hard as he can to not ogle over your body. this is all he's wanted, for months this is the only thing he's wanted, but right now just didn't feel right. you weren't fully aware of what you were doing or saying, and he couldn't, in good faith, continue further with this situation.
he carefully places his hands on your crossed arms, keeping them close to you as he talks.
"[y/n], you're drunk right now. and while i helped you get undressed, which was already a bit over the line, i don't want you to do something you'll regret."
you give him a look he can't quite decipher. your smile drops, your eyes focus, and your arms tense.
"i'm sorry," you say softly.
harry quickly reassures you. "don't be! seriously, don't be. i am so, so glad that you trust me enough to help you in this state. truly. it means the world to me, because i care about you so much." he gives you a warm smile.
you smile back at him. "then i hope you understand when i say i want to do this,"
you begin to pull your arms away from your chest, but harry is still holding them. he looks you in the eyes with worry, afraid of what you're about to do, yet more excited than he's been in a long time.
"but [y/n]..." he protests. "please?" you ask simply.
harry is reluctant, but he can tell you're going to be insistent, so he slowly lets go of your arms as you remove your bra from your body.
harry glances at your chest, his heart dropping. you're perfect.
perfect, perfect, perfect.
your skin looked so beautiful in the lowlight provided by your lamps and fairy lights. the curves of your boobs looked so soft and untouched. this was the first time harry was seeing tits in real life, and he was pretty sure this was the best they could possibly get.
he looks back up at your eyes, a shy smile spread across your expression. "beautiful…" harry whispers before he even realizes what he's saying.
you giggle, unfolding the shirt you handed him and swiftly pulling it over your head. "thanks, harry," you say so casually, turning around to make your bed so you can sleep in it.
he can hardly believe what's just happened. the girl of his dreams, the girl he'd practically been obsessed with for months, just willingly showed him her boobs for fun. though you were intoxicated and would most likely regret it tomorrow, hopefully not mad at him for letting it happen, he was still grateful that you felt that level of trust with him in any capacity.
what he wasn't grateful for, however, were these bloody pirate pants that gave him the most uncomfortable erection of his life. this was also definitely the hardest and most turned on he had ever been, so he's not sure if there's any comfort to be had in this moment anyway. while you focus on the bed, harry takes a step away and tries to calm himself down, thinking different thoughts to try and let the hornieness subside for just a bit longer.
as you plop into bed and begin getting comfortable, harry turns off a few lamps for you but keeps on the fairy lights in case you need the bathroom at any point.
"do you need anything before i head out, [y/n]?" he asks.
you sit up in your bed, a look of pain on your face.
"you're leaving me?"
harry is utterly heartbroken at the tone of your question. you sound so genuinely upset he immediately comes to comfort you, sitting on the edge of your mattress.
"oh, no, i-i won't if you don't want me to." he stumbles out. harry wasn't planning on staying, he was actually just imagining how good of a jerk he was about to have in 10 minutes, plus he's never technically stayed the night with you before. but he quickly pushes his perverted thoughts of you to the side and knows it's much more satisfying to him if he stays here and makes sure you're okay through the night.
you reach for the bandana that's still tied around his head and pull it off swiftly, leaving his hair disheveled. you throw it across the room with a laugh.
"sleepoverrrr" you cheer, patting the spot next to you on the bed. harry laughs with you, standing up and realizing he's still dressed as a pirate. "i didn't bring any clothes…" he says with a twinge of sadness.
you look at him confused. "you're a guy, just sleep naked." you say it like it's the most obvious thing in the world. harry is a bit stunned at this statement but quickly laughs you off, going to your drawers to look for a pair of pants. besides, he's still slightly struggling with a situation in his boxers and being naked next to you wouldn't exactly help him out.
he eventually put together a shirt and pants combo that fit him comfortably enough to sleep in. "hope you don't mind," he says as he changes into them.
"not at all," you say, watching him change in the lowlight. there's something in your voice that makes harry feel feral, an overwhelming desire to just let go and release the tension between you two. at least, the tension he thinks is there.
he quickly gets dressed, setting his pirate clothes and glasses on your dresser as the sleep begins to settle into his bones. he crawls into bed next to you, and is quickly invited to join you under the covers. he's a bit reluctant at first, but realizes he doesn't have much of a choice as he starts getting cold.
within a few minutes of saying goodnight to each other, you and harry drift off to sleep together.
you're the first one awake, a splitting headache and dry mouth creating an unpleasant feeling immediately after opening your eyes. you rub the sleep away from them and reach for a glass of water on the nightstand next to you, sitting up a bit to sip slowly.
"good morning," a deep voice rumbles just beside you. you instinctively jump a bit before your brain quickly recognizes harry's tone and accent. as you turn to him, he's adorably disheveled wearing one of your university crewnecks under your blanket.
he smiles at you. he looks so different without his glasses on.
"morning, harry," you say groggily. the moment doesn't last long before another wave of your headache hits you, causing you to rub your forehead. you groan in pain. "what happened last night?"
harry's a bit frozen. this is exactly what he was afraid was going to happen. you don't remember anything from last night. he should've just dropped you off here and left right away, not even letting there be a chance of anything happening.
he's brought out of his thoughts when you look back down at him, a look of curiosity in your eyes as you continue to rub your head.
harry also sits up a bit before climbing out of bed, putting his glasses on from the top of your dresser.
"well…" he starts out nervously, scratching his head. "we went to the party," he says as he begins to stretch his back out.
"oh yeah, the party. we were definitely the best costumes there." you recall the night fondly. harry laughs nervously, worried about how you're going to react when you find out he undressed you and even saw you nearly completely naked in such an intoxicated state.
"right, yeah, of course." harry chuckles dryly. "but, um…at some point you left me and started drinking, so we didn't stay for long." he says carefully, his mind racing as he slowly, nervously paces between your bed and your dresser.
"classic," you chuckle, reaching for a hairbrush as you begin to comb through your knotty hair. "thanks for bringing me home, harry," you smile at him.
the guilt twists in his stomach like a knife, he can't believe how innocent you are. but he also can't believe what happened between you two last night, and just how eager you seemed for it to happen. he has to stop thinking about it before he gets turned on again.
"of course, [y/n], but, um…" he takes a deep breath before he continues. "you look cute in my jumper, by the way," you interrupt him, standing up from your bed as you begin to collect toiletries to take a shower.
his brain fogs from the compliment, but doesn't let it distract him from what he knows he has to tell you.
"well, thank you, but, um…" harry says with a blush.
you give him a confused look. "what's up?" you ask him. he's just going to come right out and say it.
"look, [y/n], i don't know if you remember, but…you asked me to help you get undressed last night because you were too drunk," he spits out, trying to immediately gauge your reaction before continuing. you just give him an even more confused look. "oh, well, thank you then. is that okay?" you ask incredulously.
harry stiffens. "yeah, um…i didn't mind helping, of course, it's just…" you giggle, opening the door to your en suite bathroom that's barely bigger than the shower within it. "harry, you're such a dork. do you actually feel bad for taking care of me when i was drunk?" you ask sarcastically as you set down various lotions and hair products onto the sink.
he cracks a small smile at you calling him a dork, but it doesn't last long. his heart settles a bit after hearing your positive outlook on the situation so far, but it doesn't stop completely.
"it's not that, um…but, uh, afterwards, you, well, kind of…" he awkwardly tried to find the words.
"you…showed me your boobs." not the most eloquent way of putting it.
your face goes pale. his stomach drops immediately.
"n-not by my request or anything!" he quickly reassures you (and himself). "it's just, i told you you might regret it, but you were insisting on doing it anyways…" he doesn't want to feel like he's blaming you when he was the sober one in charge.
"oh…" you say despondent, seeming lost in your thoughts as you search his expression. he gives you a moment to process what he's said. "yeah…" is all he manages to say.
you sigh. "i'm sorry, harry. it was wrong of me to force that on you." your apology is so sincere, and it immediately confused harry. force that on him? bloody hell. you really had no memory of just how much he enjoyed himself in that moment. harry's sure he looked like a kid at a candy shop just staring at your beautiful body in the warm light.
"what? no! i-i'm sorry i let that happen," he responds with a ridiculous tone. "i was the sober one, i should've tried harder to–""to what? stop a drunk girl from showing her tits? yeah, good luck with that one." you laugh, cracking a joke.
harry's nerves are much more calm. he's insanely grateful that you seem to be taking this news well and aren't angry with him.
"look, harry…" you start, adjusting your shirt around your shoulders. harry's been stealing glances of your delicious thighs and legs every so often as you talked.
"i'm really grateful for you. just in general, but for last night especially. you helped me out, and you were a complete gentleman, at least from what i can remember…" you joke with him. he cracks a smile too.
"so don't stress about it, yeah?"
harry lets out a breath of relief, physically feeling the weight of the situation lift from his shoulders. "yeah, of course. i'm really grateful you trust me like that." he's in awe of your grace in this moment.
you smile, stepping over to the laundry next to your dresser. you grab a shirt and some pants from your closet, and, before harry even realizes what you're doing, you drop your underwear you were wearing last night to your ankles, stepping out of them and walking towards the bathroom again.
"gonna shower for a bit," you inform him as you close the door behind yourself.
harry's left behind, staring at the door before returning his gaze to your panties.
they're red, much like your bra from last night, and he remembers taking note of them to keep in his fantasies later for accuracy. but now, here they were, just laying right in front of him.
he finds himself still staring at them when he hears you turn the shower on and step inside, closing the sliding glass door behind you. he looks at the door, and looks back at your panties.
for a while he just looks at them incredulously, not entirely sure why this specific detail has made him so irrationally horny. you were completely naked on just the other side of this wall, but he's practically mesmerized by the image of you casually sliding your red panties down your legs right in front of him like it wasn't the most erotic thing he's ever witnessed in his whole life.
before he knows it, the shower turns off. he's still left staring at your red panties. as he shifts his weight, he can see that they're a bit wet and slick in the light from you wearing them all night.
he can't take it anymore. his erection from last night has returned with a vengeance this morning. before harry could even realize what he's doing, he's picked up your underwear carefully, holding them between his fingers, your wetness still soaking through the cotton.
his heart is racing as he hears you brushing your teeth. what is he doing? if you caught him being perverted with your panties like this after just reassuring him that he wasn't in the wrong for what happened last night, he'd surely be on your bad side. but he can't stop himself.
he brings them to his face and takes a slow, deep inhale.
you smell completely divine. slightly sweet, slightly bitter. he gets goosebumps just thinking about how you must really smell. his erection is raging beneath your sweatpants he put on last night, feeling incredibly dirty from being so turned on by your used panties.
his stolen pleasure is too quickly interrupted by the sound of the bathroom doorknob jiggling. shit. as you're about to open the door, harry panics and shoves your panties into the pocket of his sweatpants.
you come out with freshly damp hair and raw skin. the wonderful smell of your shower products fill the room as you brush through your hair casually.
harry keeps a hand in his pocket over the panties so you don't have the chance of catching him, and to better conceal the raging boner that's not going away anytime soon.
you don't say anything as you place your toiletries back in their rightful spots, humming to yourself as you comb through your hair occasionally.
so casually beautiful, so effortlessly pristine. you amazed him every time with just how ethereal you could be at any given moment. a freshly clean angel fluttering around the room without a care in the world.
you begin complaining of your hangover headache and ask harry to get food with you. he's more than willing, his stomach already growling in response for him.
at breakfast, you sit in silence with harry as you both hungrily devour the pancakes you ordered. harry got you two glasses of orange juice to keep you hydrated after last night.
after a while, you inform him you have to go study, and he offers to help you. "thanks, but i can't be distracted. this exam is going to kick my ass." you complained to him. harry gave you a look. "i distract you?"
you laugh at him, leaving him at the lunch hall with a simple, "goodbye, harry. call me later."
when harry gets to his dorm room, he realizes he's still wearing your clothes. and, shit, he's still got your panties in his pocket.
harry slowly reaches for them, feeling a twinge of guilt and lust once his hand finds the fabric. pulling them out, he's in shock that he actually stole a pair of your panties. to be fair he didn't intend to, he just panicked and wasn't thinking straight.
but, now that he has them…
keeping the red lace hanging from his fingers, harry climbs into bed and begins to remember those unforgettable moments with you just the night prior. it doesn't take much to get him just as riled up as before, imagining the moments he was undressing you in slow motion. taking your heels off as you looked up at him with the most seductive eyes in the world. seeing the flesh of your breasts for the first time in the dim lighting, imagining how they'd feel in his rough hands. god, he feels so bad finding pleasure in these moments, but he physically can't resist it.
his hand is already wrapped around the base of his cock, stroking slowly as to savor the memories flashing through his brain. he's been aching for this release since seeing you in your costume last night, just another memory that brings him closer to the edge.
finally, he slowly brings your panties to his face. though they've since dried in his pocket during breakfast and the walk home, the lingering smell is still enough to drive him wild. he's breathing them in like it's oxygen and he's drowning.
just as he's nearing the end, he brings the panties to his other hand and begins stroking his cock with them. the sight alone is enough to break him, his cum spilling onto his hand and all over your red panties as images of your half naked body continue to infest his brain.
this time, the immediate guilt was the worst it'd ever been.
as he began to clean up, he realized just how much he ruined your panties in his excitement. his cum had soaked through the thin fabric and was already drying around it. he cursed himself for ruining such a sacred momento that he should've cherished, but also quickly cursed himself for thinking that way about you in the first place.
you even said yourself that harry was being a perfect gentleman last night. yeah, a gentleman with a raging erection the entire night who steals your used panties for his sick pleasure…
he continues to clean himself up, putting your panties in a safe place where nobody can find them and he won't lose them. even just the thought of them being in his possession was enough to get him riled up again.
it's the stressful time between thanksgiving and christmas where school has the two of you completely spread thin. harry's constantly writing essays while you seem to have endless lab experiments to finish for other classes. the one saving grace is your potions class together, twice a week. it's what kept harry sane during this chaotic time.
spending even just this short hour and 15 minutes with you is enough to fulfill harry. he hasn't properly hung out with you in nearly two weeks and was missing you like he was withdrawing.
sitting close to you to copy some notes about the potion you two are working on, harry admires your handwriting for the millionth time since he's met you. "i just don't understand how you write so well, i can barely read my own," harry jokes, holding out his notebook, making you laugh and blush.
the potion you're working on is one that allows the consumer to communicate with animals for a short period of time. it's rather complex, but harry helps you keep things organized and encourages you when you get frustrated.
"i just don't get it, how is it 3 drops and not 6? i swear it was 6 last week…" you groan, looking through your notes as you set down the tincture, rubbing your face, exasperated.
harry sets a reassuring hand on your arm. he's gotten pretty good at being more physical with you, and isn't afraid to touch you casually like you always have with him. "hey, [y/n], it's okay," he tells you, catching your eyes with his. "it's been a stressful week, yeah? just a mistake, no big deal."
you give harry that same, warm smile you delivered on your first day meeting him. he often looks back at that day fondly, forever grateful he got the sudden courage to talk to you after this class. not only were you now his closest friend, you were also the light of his life.
as harry finishes up, he hands you the round vial full of luminescent, purple potion. "here you are, test it out."
you take a small swig of it just as professor rodden makes his way to your and harry's table. next to the table is a bird's cage on a hook, with a sweet owl inside named jewel.
you make eye contact with the owl, and begin to speak. to you and everyone else it just sounds like regular english, but the owl begins to hoot and flap its wings at you immediately.
"hello, jewel, how are we feeling today?" you coo.
amazing, incredible, unbelievable! jewel's hoots become intelligible to your ear as you practically jump up and down with a huge smile on your face. "it worked, it worked!" you announced to harry, instinctively jumping in his arms for a hug as he spins you around excitedly.
"yes! you did it! see, i knew you could." harry exclaims, setting you down and giving you a toothy grin.
you look at jewel again, who is turning her head at you every which way. how nice, you and the boy! how sweet indeed! her loud hoots make the class silent as they watch you interact with her.
"what's she saying?" harry asks curiously. you give him a shy smile, feeling your face turn red. "she likes us." you're not totally lying.
"well, ms. [y/l/n], i must tell you i'm quite impressed. not just at how quickly you two perfected this potion, but of your performance this semester overall." professor rodden compliments you. he turns to harry. "i see mr. potter has been a positive influence on you this year."
harry quickly shuts him down. "actually, sir, if you don't mind me speaking out of turn, [y/n] has helped me way more this semester than i've helped her. she's brilliant."
professor rodden turns to you, a pale face and shocked expression, and gives you a smile. "well, then, hat's off to you, ms. [y/l/n]." he says, bowing to you before continuing with his rounds in the classroom. "thank you, professor rodden."
after class, you're all over harry, resting your head on him, hugging him, touching him randomly, but he's not complaining of course. he feels lucky enough that you're so comfortable around him as to be touchy feely.
"thank you, by the way. for what you said to rodden." you thank him as you two walk into your dorm room. harry takes his usual seat at your computer desk. "of course, i wasn't about to let that wanker give me credit for all of your hard work." harry says, laughing. he's become so much more confident with you, even using your lingo in his own vocabulary.
"no, really, thank you. just, for everything." you smile at him. "you're the best friend i could ever ask for."
harry feels his smile slightly falter. he's always reminded that that's all you are is friends, and while he's insanely grateful for your friendship, probably more than anything else in his life, he just can't help but feel a bit lost at this point. he's insanely attracted to you, ferociously protective over you, and, yet, can't bring himself to tell you any of this.
"you're welcome, [y/n], but if anything i should be thanking you. you don't even know how much you've helped me, not just with school but with everything. you're, like, the only friend i have at this point." harry laughs, but it's true. he's tried to make friends in other classes this year but has been disappointed each time, they're just not you.
you give harry a sad smile. "that's not true, ron and hermione are still your friends. more than that, they're practically your family." you walk over to him and run your hand through his hair, something you know he loves. he looks up at you slightly through his eyelashes.
"hermione's right, they'll come back to you one day. just give it some time, yeah?"
harry melts into your touch. nobody can settle his mind like you do. he didn't exactly look for pity from people, but you were someone he felt so safe with that he could be completely vulnerable in front of you. the reassurance and love that you provided him in these moments healed him in a way he didn't understand.
"right," he sighs, giving you the same sad smile.
you whine and pull his head into your chest, resting your own head on top of his. "awh, i hate seeing you so sad." you say sympathetically, still running your fingers through the back of his hair.
if harry's being completely honest, he's not sad at all anymore. how could he feel anything but pure bliss with his head buried in your sweater and your fingers leaving goosebumps throughout his scalp? he leans into you like a dog being pet, so desperate for your touch.
you stay like that with him for a while, just enjoying each other's company. harry found solace in your heartbeat, feeling truly at peace for the first time in weeks. "i've missed you." harry practically moans, intoxicated by your warm scent, his eyes fluttering closed.
you hum, smiling softly to yourself, feeling harry practically melt into your arms. "missed you too, harry," you coo, enjoying the feeling of being together.
"the semester's almost over, then it's christmas." you remind him, lifting your head as you look down at his closed eyes. he looks so peaceful resting against you.
harry smiles. almost christmas. but more importantly, almost your birthday.
harry very vividly remembers a conversation he had with you towards the beginning of your friendship about birthdays and how neither of you particularly enjoyed them.
your birthday fell close to christmas, so, inevitably, it became synonymous with christmas growing up. never really getting a separate party or separate presents, you learned to not expect much the actual day of, and to rather wait for christmas so you could be celebrated on the side.
harry was having none of this. he thinks you forgot about the conversation with him completely, but he's thought about it constantly since then. he's been planning on giving you a special birthday on your actual birthday this year, and he's practically dying to tell you. but he doesn't, and he won't, because it has to be a complete surprise.
"hm. christmas." is all he says, tilting his head back to look up at you. from every angle he finds you so fascinating, you just get prettier and prettier the more he truly looks at you.
you're gazing at him so gently, so warmly, your hand practically cradling his head against you. harry blinks and you're suddenly leaning forward, planting a soft kiss against his forehead.
harry could've died happy at that moment.
he brings his head away from your chest as you step away, soft smile and blushing cheeks. watching you turn and start folding laundry mindlessly, harry feels the lingering kiss tingling his skin.
for a brief moment, he imagines himself coming up to you from behind, wrapping his arms around you, kissing your neck, feeling you, pushing you to the bed…
harry quickly shakes his head, grinding his teeth at the horny urges he gets at the most simple actions. what other boys in university get an erection so quickly from a forehead kiss? sometimes harry felt like such a loser, not just with you, but with sex in general.
he never thought about it much before you, so it's not something he knows a lot about. he'd masturbated before, but not as often as he does now, or in the same way. usually he thought about making out with someone, maybe touching them, but now…he just felt so dirty, the things that his brain creates about you.
once you finish the laundry, you ask for his help to put stuff away. he's done this for you many times before, so he knows where you like everything to be.
he hangs up a few shirts and puts away some jeans and socks. he turns around to see you handing him a pile of your panties loosely stacked together. "here," you say as you're turned the other way, gathering another pile of clothes with your other arm.
harry is frozen for a second before reluctantly taking the underwear from you, immediately feeling his face flush.
he's instantly reminded of your panties sitting in his room right now. the panties he stole. the panties he masturbated with.
he's since washed them and keeps them out of guilt, partially, but he's not quite sure how to subtly return them to you. not like he wants to anytime soon.
as harry turns around and opens the drawer you put your panties in, he takes his time so he can admire all the different pairs in his hand. pinks, purples, reds, neutrals, blacks, he was practically holding a goldmine. it almost made him chuckle, the irony of you asking him to put these away.
he neatly tucks them into the drawer, admiring them one last time before slowly closing it.
for the first time that month, you and harry actually have the freetime to leave campus and get food together. your favorite diner is open all night and serves the best milkshakes either of you have ever had.
"how are we splitting the checks?" the older waitress asks, eyeing harry up and down. before you can say anything he tells her just one, handing her his card out of nowhere.
as she walks away you give him an evil look. "you don't always have to pay for everything, y'know? i'm perfectly capable of paying for myself or the both of us." you tease him. he smiles. "i know." he states simply.
you finish your milkshakes within minutes, handing your cherry to harry like you do every time. "cherry for harry," you always say. it always gets a smile out of him.
after a few minutes of chatting alone in the diner, the bell at the front door rings. you get a big smile across your face as you stand from the booth. "thomas?" you ask.
harry turns around to see a man in a quidditch uniform, his hair sweaty and book bag full to the brim. he's carrying his broomstick around, like a total tool if you ask harry, and gives you the cheekiest smile possible.
"[y/n]?" he asks.
harry could've killed him just for saying your name the way he did. like a predator hunting its prey again.
harry's anger immediately worsened when you practically jumped on this guy to give him a hug. nothing like the hug you gave harry in class today, he wants to note.
harry stood up, causing the guy to look at him. he had a scar as well, one from quidditch harry would assume. a slash across his left eye, healed but still somewhat recent.
you look back at harry as well, smiling at him. "harry, this is thomas." you introduce them.
yeah, he picked up on that. harry's face was red from anger.
he reluctantly steps forward, offering his hand to the douchebag who still kept a light hand on your shoulder. harry wanted to break his wrist when he went in for the handshake, but instead he offered a polite, "harry. nice to meet you."
the guy, thomas, gives a half smirk. "harry potter." he states matter-of-factly.
harry was sure his anger was visible at this point. it was enough that this guy was touching you and clearly had a past with you, but for him to pull the boy who lived card on him in front of you was enough to make his fists ball up.
"that's me." he says, his tone dripping in sarcasm.
there's an awkward moment of silence as harry continues to stare thomas down.
"so. how do you two know each other?" harry asks you, his tone and gaze softening just looking at you.
"oh! um…" you start nervously.
"we dated back in high school." thomas finishes for you.
of fucking course you did, harry thinks.
"yeah…for, like, 2 months…" you awkwardly laugh off, clearly not the most comfortable discussing this in front of harry.
thomas laughs with you as the waitress hands him a to-go box. "well, i'll see you guys around," he says as he hikes up his bookbag. "it was nice to see you again, [y/n]."
if looks could kill, this guy would've been dead long before he left out the door. harry knew he was visibly upset when you looked over at him.
"you okay harry?" you ask with a laugh.
he breaks, looking at you with a smile as he loosens his tight muscles. "sorry, i'm fine," he says.
as you both put your coats on to walk home, harry can't help but replay the interaction in his head. "dated…in high school…" "yeah…for, like, 2 months…"
harry's mind was swimming as you left the diner with him, walking into a light snow. "wow," you sigh, looking around you. harry looks up. it's beautiful out. the snow gives everything a light, soft look under the street lamps. he looks down at you and smiles at you admiring the scenery.
sometimes it scares harry how jealous he gets when it comes to you, and how quickly it can happen. that guy did nothing but say your name and give you a 2 second hug, and he actually dated you, so what right does harry have to get upset as just your friend? but all he can think about on the walk to your dorm is pummeling this guy's stupid face into the ground.
harry hadn't told you yet, but he had actually been going to the gym lately with all the time he had spent away from you during the busy school weeks. nothing too intense, he actually focused on boxing and lifting specifically because he wanted to be better prepared to protect you in case anything happened to you. and for self defense reasons, of course, but mainly for your benefit. he would do anything for you.
upon arriving at your dorm, you plop onto your mattress with a groan. "too much milkshake," you whine.
harry chuckles at you, shaking the snow out of his hair. "i told you not to get the large." he smirks. you frown at him, making him laugh again. "it's not funny! and you're wrong, i deserved a large after this month." you protest.
he laughs you off again, taking a peek at your alarm clock next to your bed. his eyes widen. "bloody hell, since when was it half past 11?" he asks astounded.
you laugh at his shock. "time flies when you're havin' fun,"
harry rubs his eyes. "if i don't leave now i won't get enough sleep to make it to my 9 a.m." he groans, not wanting his time with you to end yet again.
"nooo," you whine, clearly wanting the same. he gives you a sad look at your tone. "stay?" you ask.
harry's a bit taken aback. he hasn't stayed the night since the halloween party. thinking about that night for even a split second makes him break a sweat. it's his most replayed memory. he could even call it his sexual awakening at the ripe age of 19.
"stay? are you sure?" harry asks. you immediately nod your head, smiling at him. he can't say no to you, and he doesn't want to. he has no reason to leave, anything he needs is already here.
"well, if you insist." he smirks. you roll your eyes, taking off your jacket and hat and setting them in your closet. "i only insist because that snow is turning into a storm." you reply. you're not wrong, harry would've had to walk for 15 minutes through heavier and heavier snowfall, not to mention the windchill.
"well, thank you." he says. you smile back at him before reaching to take your shirt off. harry's seen you in multiple states of undress since the halloween party, so it's not uncommon for you to just change at any point during your conversations.
but that didn't make it any less pleasurable for harry.
sometimes he just sat back and watched like it was a personal show just for him. he would memorize the shape of your back and, shit, the curve of your ass. he watched as you pulled down your jeans, left in nothing but a bra and panties. he tried not to stare but it was impossible to look away for too long, your ass was just perfect to him.
before too long you unclasped the bra hooks behind your back and let the black fabric fall into the laundry. you slipped on a big t-shirt, your favorite thing to wear to bed, and harry caught just the slightest glimpse of your tits from behind you.
as you turned around, harry quickly began taking off his wet, snow covered converse to appear as though he wasn't just observing you like his own personal dirty magazine.
when he looked up, you were handing him some clothes to change into. he thanked you, grabbing them as he took off his jeans and sweatshirt. harry had also learned to be more comfortable changing around you, even if it wasn't as often.
harry put on the sweatpants and fresh pair of socks before realizing you hadn't given him a shirt. he looked over at you and you were already staring at him.
"harry, have you been working out?"
his face flushed, feeling exposed with just a pair of sweatpants on his hips. you were looking at his body with an expression of shock and amusement.
"u-um, yeah, a bit…just between classes, get some stress out." he's not entirely lying, but he could never tell you the real reason.
you smile at him, but a different smile than normal. you're almost…nervous? you've never been nervous around harry, even when you two first met.
"you look…good…" you say with a slight crack in your voice, still looking at him. harry can feel his blood pumping, and he knows that can only lead to an eventual erection, so he turns around casually pretending to fold his jeans. "oh, thanks," he tries to say casually.
he can still feel your eyes on him as he hangs his sweatshirt on your coat rack. "damn, harry. you're like…ripped." you say with genuine shock in your voice.
harry turns towards you, but you're fixated on his exposed torso. he nervously laughs, not sure how to respond. of course he thought getting stronger would mean his body would inevitably look better, but he cared more about his ability to fight off any creeps he needed to in order to keep you safe. however, he hadn't necessarily considered your reaction to his transformation. he had somewhat forgotten you also saw him change his clothes that halloween night. he thought you had forgotten too.
"i don't know about that," he laughs awkwardly.
you just giggle and look away, shaking your head. you climb into bed and invite him next to you. harry accepts and joins you beneath the covers, turning off a lamp beside him.
after a few moments of silence, harry could hear your shallow, even breaths indicating you're asleep. he looked down at you, peaceful, beautiful. he sat up as gently as possible and placed a soft kiss to your forehead. "goodnight, [y/n]."
it was finally your birthday.
harry had been planning this day for weeks. he made sure to ask you way ahead of schedule when you would be seeing family so he could time everything perfectly.
he had completely set up your room to look like a birthday party for a kid. balloons, streamers, a birthday cake and ice cream, presents, even fun plates and napkins.
you should be coming home from going out to eat with your parents for brunch in about 10 minutes. harry made sure to call you before you left early in the morning to be the first to wish you a happy birthday.
as he was waiting for you to arrive, he made sure everything was perfect, down to the last balloon. he had put your favorite cd on and even lit a candle. he's not quite sure why, he just felt like it was right.
soon enough, he could hear your keys on the other side of your door letting yourself in, so harry positioned himself beside your bed and waited eagerly for the reaction he'd been thinking about for months.
when you open the door, you're a bit startled to see him at first. "surprise!" he says with a suppressed smile, trying to contain his excitement.
your eyes slowly examine the room, your jaw dropping as you bring a hand to your heart. "harry…" you choke out in a small voice, still noticing different details around you as the door closes behind you.
"happy birthday." he says lovingly, taking in every second of your realization.
"you…how did you…" you can't even get the words out as you set down your purse and coat on your bed next to your presents from harry.
"i've been planning this for weeks. i wanted to give you the birthday you never had." he tells you.
you look at him with tears in your eyes, quickly looking away and towards your dresser. "you got me a cake…" you say tearfully, walking up to the custom cake he had placed an order for an entire week ago.
"we also have reservations for the diner at 5. if you'd join me, of course." harry smirks. you chuckle at him, jumping in his arms and enveloping him in a hug. "thank you…" you begin to cry into his shoulder.
harry holds you tight, dazed from your scent and enjoying the softness of your hair. he rubs your back softly as you get the tears out, letting you know it's okay.
you pull away, wiping your tears as you laugh at yourself. "sorry, i just…this is so amazing of you harry."
"don't be sorry. i'm glad you love it." he reassures you, making you smile. "let's have some cake, hm?"
after some cake and ice cream as well as messing with the balloons and party favors, it was time for harry's favorite part. the presents.
he sat you both down on your bed and savored each reaction you had to each present. every thank you was followed by, "how did you know i wanted this?" "how much was this?" "how did you get this?"
harry had his ways. and again, he would do anything for you.
his last present for you, though, was the most important. he kept it beside him until the very end, handing it to you with a shy smile. you lifted the lid off the box to reveal a beautiful necklace, one he saw you looking at multiple times while out shopping with you.
you were speechless. you looked at harry with the most genuine expression of shock, gratitude, and confusion. "harry…" you gasp. "you got this for me?" you ask.
harry chuckles. "do you like it?" he asks, already knowing the answer.
"harry…you really shouldn't have…" you tell him, staring at the necklace in your lap. he smiles even bigger, the look on your face was already enough to convince him it was worth it. it was all worth it. "here, i'll put it on you."
you hand harry the necklace, turning and scooting towards him as you hold your hair to the side for him. he's immediately reminded of the night he helped you take your bra off.
he clasps the necklace together and you turn towards him, looking down at it with him. "wow, it looks great." he says with a smile.
you look up at him, your faces nearly touching. harry can barely process your beauty before you lean in for a soft kiss against his lips.
harry's completely frozen, not knowing what to do or what's even happening.
when you pull back, harry can barely breathe.
you look up at him, your eyes soft and eager. harry can't hold himself back anymore. you've kissed him first, that's all the permission he needs for now.
he lightly grabs the back of your head and pulls you in for a bigger, deeper kiss. soon enough, you're making out with harry in your bed.
he's a bit rusty when it comes to kissing, but he plays it safe with you and keeps it soft and light. your hands have traveled to harry's neck and hair, pulling him closer to you.
after a minute or so, harry pulls away. "i love you, [y/n]." he admits. he just couldn't keep it in for much longer.
your eyes light up, a shy smile on your lips as you read his expression. "oh, harry. i love you, too." you reply breathlessly.
the kissing becomes more and more heated as you eventually push harry back onto your pillows. he's surprised, and completely aroused, trying to ignore his growing erection from simply kissing you.
you climb on top of him, the visual making harry sweat already. as you lean in to continue the kiss, your legs end up on either side of him, straddling his torso.
harry is at a loss. he never imagined his birthday surprise for you would end like this. did you really mean you loved him? like, loved loved him?
his hands went to your hips, savoring the feeling of your weight on top of him, his pants becoming more and more uncomfortable. eventually, he can feel your hips slowly rock back and forth on his lap.
he pulls away from the kiss, looking at you above him with wonder. it was everything he could've imagined. even better than the constant fantasies he had of you.
"is this okay?" you ask him softly, searching his eyes, grinding your hips into his a bit slower than before.
harry looks at you incredulously. "[y/n], this is all i've wanted for so long. please. use me." the desperation in his voice surprises him, he knew he wanted you this bad but he couldn't believe how quickly you had him begging.
you practically moaned at his desperate request. "fuck," you whisper as you go in for another kiss.
harry guides your hips into his, and he's sure you can feel just how hard he is through his jeans. you're softly moaning into the kiss, stopping to catch your breath every so often as harry slightly thrusts his hips into you, desperate for more.
"oh, harry…" you moan, causing his eyes to roll in ecstasy. for so long he imagined how you'd sound moaning his name just for him, and he's more than happy with the real thing.
"you're so beautiful, darling," harry says, reaching for your flushed cheek.
you whimper at his voice, tangling a hand in his hair. "tell me again." you demand him.
shit. harry could seriously cum just from that. he's doing everything he can to keep this going as long as possible, but he's not sure how much longer he'll last under you.
"beautiful. so, so beautiful." he says between heavy breaths, watching your incredible body grind onto him for pleasure. "you have no idea how badly i've needed you," he looks back into your eyes, half shut with pleasure as you continue to blush.
"touch me." you tell him, putting your hair behind your shoulders. he looks up at you slowly moving up and down on his lap. he could watch you do this for hours. a dream come true.
one hand slowly makes its way towards your tits, massaging one through your clothes. harry's head rolls back in pleasure, hardly believing this was his real life. involuntary moans slip through his lips as you continue to dry hump him.
"fuck, harry…" you whimper, kissing him again. he can feel the necklace he got you against his hand as he continue to feel your tits. everything about this was perfect. as far as he was concerned, right now, in this moment, you were his and only his.
"i-i…i think i'm gonna cum…" you tell him between kissing. his hands grip you tighter, all he wants to do is please you, be the reason for your ecstasy.
"please, [y/n], please cum for me," he begs of you, feeling his own body tipping over the edge. you look him in the eyes, your hand on his cheek as your breathing gets more rapid and uneven.
you're whimpering, desperately grinding for relief on harry's jeans as he feels himself about to cum. "harry, please…" you beg.
harry slightly thrusts into you, meeting your rhythm as he pulls you closer to him. you begin to shake in his grip, your eyes and jaw going lax as your whimpers become breathless. your hand finds one of his and interlocks your fingers together. you squeeze his hand as you ride out your high. he's completely enthralled with your face and body's reaction to him. he could be here forever, letting you use his body for pleasure, and he would hurt anyone who tried to stop him.
as you start to come down from your climax, harry gently pulls you in for a weak kiss. you crawl beside him, hiding your face in his chest as you continue to catch your breath.
"that was…so hot…" you manage to say between breaths. harry laughs softly, his hands finding your waist as he pulls you closer to him, placing a kiss on your head. "you're amazing." is all he can say.
"so…did you…?" you shyly start to ask. "yes. i came in my pants." harry admits, hiding his face in your hair. you can't help but laugh a bit, looking down at his jeans. he looks down and sees a dark spot near the zipper.
"oh." you say, clearly amused. "how couldn't i? i had the most beautiful woman in the world orgasming on my lap." harry smirks.
you hide your face in his chest again, giggling. you look up at him with dilated eyes, flushed cheeks, and sore lips in a small smile. "i really do love you, harry," you speak softly.
"i love you too, [y/n]."
it's the day after christmas, and you and harry had spent the holiday with your family. he loved your parents, and got on well with your siblings. he had even rented a room at a local inn near the area for you two to stay in. a private place to escape the chaos and have some alone time.
you and harry were practically all over each other all the time at this point. he couldn't help himself, all he ever wanted was to kiss you and now he could, whenever he wanted, and he was going to take advantage of that.
it was your last day at the inn, a cozy cottage type place with the softest beds you've ever slept in, and harry paid for all of it before you even knew about it. "merry christmas," he had told you.
you were eating your complimentary breakfasts together in silence, across from each other at the little table in the corner of the room.
"thank you, again, harry. this was a wonderful idea." you said as you finished your orange juice, admiring the snowfall out of the window. "it's so beautiful here."
"you're beautiful."
you give harry a look, but crack a smile. "and you're cheesy."
harry chuckles, admiring you like he always does. his soft eyes and kind smile give you butterflies.
as you're packing your clothes to get ready to leave, harry comes up behind you and wraps his arms around you. you smile, giggling, continuing to pack your suitcase. his lips end up on your neck, but you ignore him as you put your panties inside the bag.
harry laughs to himself. you look over at him. "what?" you ask with a smile. he's blushing, shaking his head. "nothing, nothing." he continues to laugh.
"tell me," you say. he shakes his head again. "no, its…it's weird." he says. you can hear a bit of shame in his voice as he hides his face in your neck again. "harry, tell me. please?"
he can't resist when you ask nicely.
he sighs, taking a step away from you and sitting on the bed next to your suitcase. "well…" he starts, rubbing his face nervously. "um, after the halloween party…" he trails off.
"yes…?" you ask, amused at his shy demeanor.
"u-uh, the morning after, when you took a shower…" harry recalls, shifting his weight. "i may have, um…stolen your underwear you took off in front of me…." he cringes at his words, turning his head away from you.
"i knew it!" you declared, pushing his shoulder.
harry covered his face completely, feeling like he could burst into tears at any moment from the embarrassment.
"god, that's so bloody hot, harry," you practically moan, pushing his arms to the side and sitting in his lap. he's completely red in the face, bewildered by your reaction.
"wh…what?" he asks breathlessly.
you hold his face in your hands, admiring his shy expression as you sink into him. "you don't find that weird? or creepy? or extremely perverted?" harry asks you incredulously.
you giggle at him, your eyes full of love. "yes, harry, stealing my used panties behind my back is very perverted. if you did that to any other girl they may find it really disturbing." harry's heart drops, his eyes focused on you completely. "but, i like you. i've really liked you for a long time. and…i find it so fucking hot just how desperate you were for me…"
harry's heart is immediately pumping at your words. you wrap your arms around his neck as you force a kiss on him, his hands grabbing your waist with a hunger.
after a moment he pulls back, nervously blinking and clearing his throat. "um, that's not all, though," he says regretfully. you give him a curious look. "i might've, um…used the panties to masturbate…" he admits.
you smile at his nervousness, biting your lip and giving him a desperate look. "oh, harry, tell me what it was like…" you moan as you begin kissing his neck.
harry's voice is caught, his head rolling back in pure bliss. sometimes he still can't believe this is real life.
you continue to bite at his neck, leaving marks as harry tries to find the words. "i, um…" his hand travels to your ass. "well, i smelled them first…" you moan against his skin, your legs tightening around him. "go on…" you say with a smile.
harry's trying to focus on the story without getting distracted by your lips. "they smelled so good, and you almost caught me, so i put them in my pocket," harry fights back a moan.
"so naughty," you tease him, pushing him onto his back. "tell me more." you demand.
harry nervously swallows at the sight of you above him. you hadn't done anything since your birthday just a few days previous, but it was all harry could think about. he missed the feeling of you being above him, using him, telling him what to do.
"when i got home, i immediately started jerking off thinking about undressing you, seeing your tits for the first time, smelling your panties, i felt so dirty because you told me i was such a gentleman that night…" harry rambles. something about revealing his perverted obsession with you as you're on his lap makes his erection harden.
he grabs for your thighs, sighing at how heavenly they feel in his hands. "then, i just…wrapped your panties around my dick…and i came on them, almost instantly…" harry reveals, the embarrassment fueling his lust.
you're practically aching for harry listening to his story, watching him become desperate for you once again. he's falling apart in your hands and you just can't get enough of it.
"god, harry, that's so hot…you were so obsessed with me…" you say as you lean into his lips, your bodies entangled on the bed.
harry pulls away, holding your face in his hands gently. "i still am, [y/n]." he says sincerely, admiring your eyes. "so, so obsessed…you have no idea…"
you gaze longingly at him, melting his heart. after a moment you kiss him passionately, savoring his eagerness.
"well…would you like these panties too?" you ask with a smirk, putting his hand on your ass. he looks up at you with begging eyes. "please," he says so softly.
soon you're sat on the edge of the bed, harry pulling down your pants with the fireplace lit behind him. he's looking at you so tenderly, taking in every part of you, constantly reminding you how much he loves you, and how beautiful you are.
you open your legs for him as he kneels in front of you, his eyes fluttering from your face to your panties, which are undoubtedly wet from hearing harry's perverted stories.
his mouth is watering just looking at you.
he gently kisses your thighs, higher and higher until he reaches your panties, taking a moment to look back up at you. you're intently watching him, a blush spreading across your face. you look so pretty from here, a view he's daydreamed about plenty of times.
he buries his face in your smell, moaning, taking you in completely, eyes drooping shut as he feels complete bliss overcome him.
you whimper at his reaction, a hand reaching for his hair as he comes back to earth. he reaches for your panties when he pauses, looking up at you shyly.
"i-i've never done this before." he admits.
you giggle at him lovingly. "i know, harry. it's okay. i haven't either." you reassure him, reaching for his glasses and setting them beside you. he smiles shyly and lays his head on your thigh, letting your hand tangle itself in his hair, memorizing this angle of you.
"just enjoy yourself."
harry blushes at that sentiment. he was enjoying himself no matter what, with you he was always happy, especially in moments like this.
but harry more than enjoyed himself. he had always fantasized what it would be like to eat your pussy, your hand in his hair as you ride his face and cum in his mouth. what he didn't expect was just how intimate it felt with you, the soft whimpers that escaped your mouth, having your legs rest on his shoulders, practically making out with your pussy while you writhe with pleasure beneath his hands.
you were both a bit unsure at first, awkward smiles and laughs and reassuring touches, before harry eventually lost himself in the act. he paid close attention to your reactions, your facial expressions, trying to figure out the best way to pleasure you. he loved feeling you get more and more wet for him by the minute, he couldn't get enough of you.
harry didn't want to stop. cumming once wasn't enough for him. he ignored your begging for him to wait, please, it's too much, holding your hands down with his own as he continued for several more minutes. he had waited so long to finally do this for you, showing you just how badly he wanted you. his dick was aching from how hard it was. this was easily the most turned on he'd been for you so far, watching and hearing you orgasm because of him, on his face, he was convinced there was nothing more enjoyable or desirable than this.
"harry, god damn it…" you sighed. he stayed between your legs in the same position, leaving loving and longing kisses on your thighs and stomach, enjoying the aftershocks your body was having in response to him, looking at you with hunger in his eyes.
"yes?" he asks innocently, still admiring your delicious pussy. "harry, i can barely move…" you whine, your body aching and sore. harry smiles devilishly at your weakness, loving the effect he's come to have on you.
he kisses up your body, leaving a desperate kiss on your lips as you taste yourself on him.
"that was even better than i ever imagined it could be," harry practically growls. you giggle at him, your eyes tired and lips bitten.
you look down at harry and see his throbbing erection through his pants. you look back at him, and offer to return the favor.
"oh, honey, you don't have to, you should rest…" harry insists, stroking your hair out of your face. but you're not backing down, and you at least convince him to let you help him out.
he lays next to you on the bed, shirt and pants off as you start feeling his dick through his briefs. harry's instantly desperate under your touch, realizing just how long he's waited for this moment, no longer having to imagine his own hand as yours.
"[y/n]..." harry moans, his eyes filled with lust as he looks over at you. you. blushing, beautiful, natural you. "i swear i could cum just looking at you."
you giggle at harry again, blushing into his chest as your hand continues to stroke him. you look back up at him innocently, admiring the look of desperation he couldn't hide. reaching for a kiss, harry moans softly into your mouth, his dick twitching in your hand.
"oh god…" harry whines, his head falling back in pleasure. you can tell he's close, just from light touching and barely any kissing. you can't help but giggle at his state, loving the control you have over him.
"go ahead, baby, cum for me," you whisper seductively.
that's all it takes for harry.
trying his best to keep his eyes on you, he comes completely undone under your touch. his breathing becomes completely ragged, breathy whimpers, vaguely trying to say your name the longer you stroked him. similar to how he kept going with you, you didn't back down. he begged you to stop, but you could tell he didn't really want you to stop any time soon. you kiss him to quiet his begging, continuing to overstimulate him until he came for a second time, ruining his briefs for good.
after cleaning yourselves up, harry gives you the longest, warmest, most loving hug you've ever received in your life. you bury your head in his chest, taking in the feeling and smell of his skin. his, now muscular, arms are wrapped tightly around you, holding you like harry had nothing left in this world but you.
"i love you, so much, and i'm so thankful for you." harry says, his deep voice rumbling in his chest.
you hug him even tighter. "i love you, harry,"
————————————————————
by the time next semester starts, you and harry are full-blown boyfriend and girlfriend, constantly holding hands wherever you two go and seeing each other off to your classes or study sessions. people talked amongst themselves about the harry potter having a girlfriend, but you both paid no mind.
being with you has really made harry come out of his shell. by the time spring sports roll around, harry feels confident enough to try out for the university's quidditch team. with your support, of course.
it was never a question that he'd make the team, he instantly became their new seeker and brought the school out of their losing streak. through this, harry also made tons of friends, real friends, who wanted to get to know him outside of being harry potter.
not to mention that you had become his number one fan, showing up to every game and most practices to cheer on your best friend and help him strategize for future games.
in every aspect, harry's life completely changed for the better. he loved his classes, he loved his team, and above all else, he loved you, and felt like he owed everything he had to you.
the only thing that bothered harry anymore was that jerk you dated and introduced him to at the diner, thomas.
thomas hadn't made the quidditch team this season, and he made it very clear that he blamed harry for that. he tried spreading a rumor that harry paid his way in, but people didn't buy it after seeing just how well harry played every game.
but that's not what bothered harry. what bothered him was the way thomas used you to get to him.
everyone knew you and harry were dating. it was the topic of conversation on campus for nearly a week when everyone found out. so why is it that every time thomas talked to you when he saw you alone you had to remind him that no, you can't hang out sometime soon, you have a boyfriend now? to harry it felt personal, and he didn't like it.
it was one of the most important quidditch matches of the season, it determined the university's qualification for finals. harry was on top of his game, especially seeing you cheering for him in the stands, and won the match easily, being celebrated by his team on the field.
after taking a few photos and congratulating the rest of the players, harry eagerly runs to meet you at your usual spot just beside the stands to get his usual post-win kiss.
what he finds instead makes him see red.
thomas. he has you completely backed up to the stands, a clearly heated conversation going on between you two. harry can tell you're pissed just by looking at you, speaking with your hands and trying to walk away but being stopped by thomas each time. finally you push him away, and he grabs you.
that's all harry needs to see before he begins sprinting towards him, his mind racing a million miles an hour and yet completely blank at the same time.
you had managed to push thomas off of you, now yelling at him to get the fuck away from you before you rock his shit.
before you can even try, harry tackles thomas to the ground and begins rocking his shit for you.
you gasped. "harry! stop!" you tell him, not wanting him to get caught and punished. but harry doesn't stop. you've never seen this anger from him. it's like he can't stop, not showing any signs of fatigue or resistance.
"harry! stop!" you yell at him, grabbing him from behind and pulling him away. harry stops punching thomas, only to stand above him and kick him in the stomach. "harry." you warn him, giving him a concerned look. "stop. you'll get expelled." you tell him in a hushed tone.
harry looks at you, softening, coming back to earth as you motion for him to just walk away with you. harry looks down at thomas, a bleeding mess in the dirt, crying in the fetal position.
harry kneels next to thomas, making him flinch. harry points his wand at him and mutters quickly, "episkey."
thomas's nose fixes itself, his cuts heal, and his stomach bruise lightens. he looks at harry incredulously, feeling no physical pain, but in fear of the threat harry posed.
"don't ever fucking touch her again. do you understand? next time i won't be so nice." harry growls. thomas quickly nods his head, desperate to leave. harry stands up, sneering at him still in the dirt. "and don't talk to me either while you're at it." you add at the end, your voice just as intimidating as harry's. "got that?" harry asks sarcastically. thomas nods again, standing up and running away from harry.
as he turns to you, you notice his bloody nose, multiple cuts from the game, and bruised knuckles. "oh, harry," you coo sympathetically, grabbing his hands and examining them. "come on. let's go home."
and by home, you meant to your house. the university had upgraded your room and board in exchange for you to work for them as a professor's assistant in potions. it was a small cottage just outside of campus, one bedroom, one bathroom, but it was enough for you and harry.
walking into your living room, you send harry to the bathroom as you lock the door behind you and drop your stuff off on the dining table. you grab a rag from the kitchen and get it wet with warm water.
you enter the bathroom to see a shirtless harry already attempting to clean a wound on his chest. you can see his reflection in the mirror and are completely infatuated with his focused, bloody face concentrated on his reflection as he tends to his injury.
you come up behind him, barely able to rest your chin on his tall, broad shoulders. his reflection instantly softens, his muscles relaxing.
you turn him around, cleaning the wounds on his chest, arms, and hands. his knuckles were bruised, nothing a spell couldn't fix. "you're lucky you didn't break anything." you remind him.
he watches you so intently. your gentle, caring touch bringing him instant relief. even now, all these months later, you still mesmerize him every day. he's not sure he'll ever get used to having you for himself. but that's just what you were, for himself.
"i wanted to kill him. i would've killed him." harry reminds you, rubbing his knuckles. "sit, please," you ask quietly, pulling him over to the closed toilet. harry sits down, letting out a groan as his entire body aches from quidditch and nearly killing someone.
he looks up at you, his eyes dark and angry again just thinking about it before softening at you. you bring the rag to his face, wiping away blood and dirt from his scars. a tense silence falls between you two. harry can't tell if you're angry at him for what he did. he has no idea why, that thomas kid was dead meat as soon as he decided to touch you.
as you carefully finish cleaning the last of the dirt off harry's face, you notice how tenderly he's watching you. you sigh, holding his face in your hands.
"i'm not mad at you." you say. he swears you can read him like a book.
"but, you could've gotten in serious trouble. or hurt yourself. i just don't want to be the reason you're down." you explain, rubbing a thumb along his cheek.
"i would do anything for you." he reminds you, his hand finding yours.
you smile warmly at him. you can't stay upset with him for very long.
"then do this for me: stay out of trouble."
harry smiles. no promises.
as you're getting ready for bed, harry walks in from his shower in just a pair of shorts. you walk up to him, running your hands along his torso to make sure his scars are sufficiently clean. and to just admire your boyfriend in general.
harry revealed to you some time back his real reason for working out. you found it sweet, but a bit silly, as you could handle yourself perfectly well. however, tonight, harry proved you wrong. though you were never in immediate danger or physical harm, as far as you knew, it still felt really nice to know he had your back when things got scary.
while working out definitely helped his strength, quidditch is what really made his body so exceptional.
he was perfectly toned, incredibly strong, and more buff than he ever had been his entire life. you were never someone to have a thing for muscular guys, but something about watching harry's body get better and better with time just drove you crazy.
"you know," you start off, resting your hands on his chest. you could feel his heart racing. all this time later and he's still such a nervous wreck for you.
"i may not approve of it, but…i can't deny how fucking sexy you looked beating thomas up for me,"
harry could feel his blood boil just from you mentioning that douchebag's name, but he was somewhat distracted by your observation.
"oh, really?" he smirks, grabbing your waist possessively. you instantly have goosebumps, leaning into harry's tight grip. "mhm. i haven't stopped thinking about it…you in your quidditch uniform, your muscles, the anger in your voice…" you practically swoon for him.
harry blushes, but takes advantage of the situation. "i was seeing red." he recalls. "i was seriously going to fucking kill that loser for even thinking he could touch my girl."
you're instantly turned on by his fierce protectiveness. normally you find harry's jealousy funny, since he has no reason to ever worry about you, but tonight it made you see a completely different side of him…
harry was always so soft and careful with you, and was a normally mild-tempered person with everyone. the only time he really got upset was if someone was getting too comfortable with you too quickly. to see him completely lose his cool, to watch him unleash onto this guy who thought he could just grab you…
you were just so, so attracted to him right now.
"yes, your girl, all yours," you reassure him as you lean in for a kiss. he quickly takes control and brings you to your bed, laying you down with haste. "mine. mine. mine." he reminds you between sloppy kisses.
the lingering anger within harry needs to be released, immediately.
he quickly undresses you, a complete 180 of the old harry who was afraid to help you take off your bra. he practically rips your panties in half trying to get them off of you.
you're already soaking wet from his aggression. he smirks at you. "guess i should get angry more, yeah?" harry teases.
you blush, but you wouldn't exactly be against it.
as harry slowly begins thrusting into you, he feels that familiar bliss overcome him like it does every time he's inside of you.
you and harry have had sex a couple times before, mostly slow and passionate with lots of kissing, enjoying each other's bodies and intimacy.
but this time, harry was hungry for you.
not to say he never is. he might always be hungry for you, quite literally. but this time, he lets the hunger consume him.
harry's thrusts become less careful and more desperate, he leaves dark, aching bites all over your chest, marking what's his. "mine. mine. mine." he reminds you between each bite.
you're in a state of pure ecstasy. you didn't know harry could be so rough with you. his desperation usually came in the form of shy begging, whimpering, and a desire to please. but this kind of desperation was aggressive, jealous, and aimed to please himself. you didn't mind, you thought it was bloody hot. you also wanted to help harry get his anger out, and you were the perfect way to do that.
as his thrusts become more possessive and sloppy, his arms rest on either side of you, the sight above you enough to make your orgasm accelerate. a sweaty, tired, aching harry, desperate to prove something to you, looking at you like you're the first meal he's had in years. his muscles flexing, veins popping out, and his breathing becomes labored.
he can feel you tightening around him and quickened his pace. "harry, harry, i'm cumming," you warn him, whining, desperate for a release.
"that's right, cum for me, baby." he groans in your ear, wrapping his arms around you as he continues pounding into you relentlessly.
watching you fall apart under him is enough to send him over the edge himself. his head is buried in your neck as he breathes heavily, moaning your name in your own ear.
"fuck, i'm gonna cum inside you, baby. can you let me do that?" harry asks you, his sweaty face desperate for your approval. you nod quickly, eager to be his release in anyway you can.
"can you take it? can you be a good girl for me?" harry loves to dirty talk, and this is the hottest it's been yet.
"please, harry, please give it to me, please, please, i need you," you beg harry, grabbing his shoulders, feeling your body prepare for its second orgasm.
"take it, baby, take it, god, you feel so good," he groans into your ear, his hips stuttering as he cums deep inside you.
your body convulses from the feeling and watching harry melt into you. his face is relieved of all anger, his eyes soft and full of love for you as he leans in to give you a sloppy kiss.
he steps back, watching his cum drip out of you, and could easily get turned on again just by the sight of you right now. but he's too tired, and he knows he has lots of time with you to do it all over again.
after cleaning up and crawling into bed, harry holds you against his chest. you're asleep in no time, steady breaths and slight snores coming from your peaceful expression. harry wraps his arm around you before leaving a kiss on top of your head.
"i love you, [y/n]. goodnight."
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[if you actually read through all of this, i salute you. if you actually enjoyed it, pls let me know. i definitely want to post more like this in the future so i always appreciate any feedback <3 thank you!!! happy new year btw lol]
#harry potter#harry james potter#harry potter x reader#harry james potter x reader#harry potter x y/n#harry potter x you#harry james potter x y/n#harry james potter fluff#harry potter oneshot#harry potter imagine#harry potter fluff#harry potter smut#harry potter au#harry potter fanfiction#hp fluff#hp smut#hp fanfiction#hp fanfic#golden trio#harry potter fandom#harry james potter imagine#harry james potter smut#not sfw#mine#smut#fanfic#x reader#oneshot#harry potter moodboard#harry potter headcanon
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In The Royal Consort:
I just imagined a scene where Danny accidentally cried or bleed and that makes the favorite assigned bodyguard appear all spooky and knightly
Fright Knight
The second one drop of blood or tear hits the floor the sun suddenly is covered by clouds and this chilling sensation travels to everyone's spine (Clockwork laughs)
Danny hides his face between his hands cause: omg this is so humiliating, why does the knight have to be so protective!? He isn't a kid! In fact, Danny is stronger than him!
But everyone around just assumes they started a war by hurting the very loved spouse of a very powerful king
Fright Knight walks through a portal and points his sword to the persons that hurt his Lord and spoke all scary and well, frightening
Meanwhile we have a combination of Danny and Batboys trying to calm down the situation (Danny casually hits the ghost all: dude! Relax! Everyone has a mini heart attack)
John Constantine is having a panic attack when he sees the news (you just know someone was making an live all the time) cause this powerful entity surely has to be the assigned protector of Prince Danny and if he appears it was to avoid that the king himself drains his husband when he's already hurt but that only means he was probably furious waiting for an explanation!!!
Danny just wanted a coffee that Tim told him (he just wanted like, enough caffeine that would kill him)
---------
On the other hand, you just know Twitter is going crazy
People are having passionate debates about the situation, maybe for Danny's age, Is necrophilia?, Fanfiction and fanart, Ghosts aren't real and everything is just a government plan, who's Danny and why he was selected and a Buzzfeed Unsolved/The Watchers video (Ryan spends half the video laughing cause he was right! Shane is 😐🙂 well I didn't expect that but at the same those places they went weren't haunted)
Director movies are watching the news, wondering if they can make a movie about them (normally they'd said that they have to wait to them be dead, that is the norm with royals but like... Dead or not is the same here, isn't it? Can they or not make movies and series about them?
Danny is suddenly the subject of everyone's curiosity. His life, photos, his friends and classmates are on the news and internet all the time
People are just asking why him? What makes Danny Fenton, a normal teenager, so special to have one of the more powerful and mighty entities in the universe so found on him? So in love?
Government/criminal societies/companies are making plans of seduction the king and becoming his consort too maybe stealing Danny's place so they can have access to Phantom wealth and power
This situation is just to say: a ghost appears to attack him while he's in public with a lot of attention from paparazzi and passengers (a friendly attack causes he's far away from his lair and they're checking? A rebel trying to take the throne?) One of the Batfamily tried to stop him but didn't have the weapons to stop them
Danny has to defeat him in his human.
But Danny doesn't even look scared, he just attacks him like a professional, like if defeating this powerful entity was nothing to him and after a few minutes he has the ghost in the thermo and Danny looking normal
I, for one, I'm sure that people would find that very hot of him and the internet reaction would be like: for that reason 😯
Danny went from being an invisible loser to "Oh shit, he's kind of hot" overnight due to the internet hyping him up. There are thirst edits all over the internet and people are eating it up, especially when Wes' blog leaks out footage videos of him doing crazy flips and ghost fighting as a human.
Meanwhile, Fright Knight is screaming, "I will protect my liege's chastity!" which is really not helping Danny.
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RISKY
prohero bakugou x fem!reader
sfw
hi :) sorry for being so inactive i’ve been dealing w the loss of a family member really close to me and i’ve just had no motivation to write so if this sucks pls just bare with me :,)
———
when you entered the hero charts in japan, you didn’t know what to expect. your quirk had manifested much later than expected, but you seemed to be able to use it very well. you excelled in your hero studies programs in high school, but your home country was extremely sexist towards female heroes. so, you headed for japan.
you’d been living there less than a year, but couldn’t imagine your life any other way. you’d become extremely close with kirishima when you started working for his agency, which forced you and bakugou to be close. truth be told, you two couldn’t stand each other at first. you were both headstrong, stubborn, very stuck in your own ways.
but, he grew on you. not like you’d ever tell him that, but he did mean a lot to you. you two looked out for each other in battle at work, and went to war trying to out-drink each other when you went out with the rest of your friend group. even though sometimes he would unexplainably give you the silent treatment or be extra irritable with you at any given moment, you didn’t think too much of it.
so when you took a flying leap off the top of a skyscraper going after a villain, it really pissed bakugou off.
you, him, kirishima, and izuku had already been on the lookout for an anonymous criminal behind a child-trafficking scheme in the city. there was a call reported from a large medical complex building, to include a daycare center and pediatrician’s office on the floors there.
bakugou, izuku, and kirishima were handling most of the rescue aspects. thankfully, you’d all responded quick enough that no children were kidnapped or severely injured. meanwhile, you were chasing a criminal up the floors of the building, determined to get answers out of him.
“what are you doing with those kids?!”
“i-i don’t know, really! the boss just sent me here to get them!”
and he was adamantly refusing to name his boss. so when he attempted to jump off the roof of the building, you went after him without a second thought. you were wrestling with him as you both hurtled towards the ground, swearing you were either going to get answers or die trying.
bakugou saw all of this happen from ground level, using his explosions to get to you as quickly as possible.
the villain manages to clock you in the face, blurring your vision and disorienting you.
“deku!” bakugou grabs the villain by the arm, throwing him down to deku and blasting himself towards you, keeping an arm around you as he lowers you both down to the ground.
he rushes you back to the agency, the medic team examining you thoroughly. they determine that you don’t need any further medical attention, just suggesting that you rest for the remainder of the day.
you take an extra long shower in the agency locker room, surprised to see that you’re not alone when you enter the co-ed section of the locker room. bakugo is sitting with his head in hands, donning a red riot t-shirt and sweats.
“surprised you’re still here.” you open your locker, putting your suit into your duffel.
“i wanted to make sure you didn’t try to pull any stupid shit again.”
“again?”
“you’re kidding, right?”
“i have no idea what you’re talking about.”
his jaw clenches, making you raise a brow as he huffs in exasperation.
“that shit you pulled earlier! why’d you jump off the roof?!”
“oh, that.”
he stands, walking closer to you as his face heats with anger.
“oh that, like you couldn’t have died?!”
“and what if i did? that’s kind of in my contract.”
your nonchalant attitude is only infuriating him more, knowing you’re striking a nerve.
“and what if you did, seriously?? the people who care about you would be absolutely crushed and you fucking know it! stop trying to act so careless!”
“and just let that guy get away and put even more kids at risk? i don’t think so.”
“then why not send me or deku after him?! our quirks let us fly, yours doesn’t you idiot!”
“because i don’t value my own life over doing my job or those of children?! why are you acting like this?!”
“because you are trying to downplay the stupid ass decision you made! just because you’re a hero doesn’t mean you turn everything into a suicide mission!”
“and if i did die taking that guy down, who fucking cares?!”
he lets out an infuriated yell, punching a locker a few doors away from yours and completely caving in the door.
“kirishima cares! so does fucking deku, and mina, and god damn dunceface! i care, for fucks sake!”
“listen, i appreciate you all a lot. but im not gonna put any of that above saving kids, bakug-“
“katsuki.”
“what?”
“you call me katsuki.”
you pause, raising at eyebrow at his demand
“just because this is your job doesn’t mean your life loses all its value! you don’t become disposable just to save other people!”
“i’m not yours to put that much value to, katsuki!”
“what if i wanted you to be?!” his eyes widen, realizing what had just come out of his mouth.
“then fucking act like it!” you wear a similar expression, staring at him wide eyed.
you’re both breathless and red in the face, staring at each other as you both process what’s been said.
in one move, he sweeps you off your feet, wrapping your legs around him and sitting you on the counter in the lockerroom under one of the mirrors. your hands are exploring all over his upper body, one settling in his hair as you pull him impossibly close to you.
“you’re the biggest brat in the world, you know that?” he mumbles against your lips.
“you love it.”
#bnha#mha#boku no hero academia#my hero acedamia#prohero#pro hero au#pro hero bakugou#pro hero bakugo x reader#pro hero dynamight#bakugou#bakugou katsuki#katsuki bakugou#bakugou x reader#bakugou oneshot#bakugou x y/n#bakugou hcs
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Always For A Second (Usually At The Start) - A Helmut Zemo x Reader fic
"And when I imagine life when it's mine / I can try to picture faceless folk to love a thousand times / But always for a second, and usually at the start / You're in the image posing with a cradled beating heart" - Katie Gregson MacLeod, i'm worried it will always be you
Synopsis: Leaving Helmut for good had been the biggest, most final choice you'd ever had to make. Two years later, he's in your living room again. This time, though, things are different.
Tags: Explicit Smut (+18), Exes, Getting Back Together, Enemies to Lovers to Exes to Lovers, Enthusiastic Consent, Switch!Zemo, Oral (Fem Receiving), Service Top!Zemo, Aftercare, Bucky is Mentioned Too Much
Rating: E (+18) Minors DNI
Warnings: N/A
Word Count: 8,600~
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“I didn’t expect you to come crawling back so soon, schatz,”
The restaurant was crowded enough that nobody heard Helmut’s words, curt and cloying and so fucking familiar. Still, my face heated. It always would for him, no matter how much my common sense protested by body’s reactions. How dare he be so damn effective at getting under my skin?
Some over-expensive brown liquor sloshed against the rim of the glass in my hand as I lifted it less than gracefully from the table, dribbling down the edge of my mouth as I guided it to my lips and drank deeply. “For one, two years isn’t soon,” I started, swallowing. “Two, you’re the asshole who showed up in my apartment like a robber, which makes you the one who came crawling back. I was just nice enough to let you take me for a free meal to get you the hell out. Three,” I set the glass down sharply, “don’t call me that. We’re not friends. We’re not anything. I still haven’t forgiven you,”
“Apologies,”
He didn’t mean it.
“Still, it’s too soon to expect any sort of kindness from you,” he continued, “If I recall correctly, you said you’d rather die than suffer through another night with me for the rest of eternity. I believe an eternity has yet to pass… and yet, here we are,”
His matter of fact tone left little up for debate, unless I wanted to reach for my fork and maim his smug face. Instead, I bit my tongue and swallowed another mouthful of whatever I was drinking.
For once I was glad to be surrounded by the kind of noisy, faceless jumble of humanity that usually made my skin crawl. F. Scott Fitzgerald was on to something with his theories on large crowds and intimacy; there was no better place for two war criminals to meet than the corner booth of a hazy restaurant, lounging and drinking, covered by the blanket of sweet anonymity. Anyone who glanced our way would see two normal human beings sharing a meal in peaceable silence, sharing sparse conversation between bites of this and that.
They would see lovers.
The thought left a lump in my throat.
Maybe I looked uncomfortable enough that they would presume, correctly, that we were ex-lovers. I wasn’t hopeful about it, though.
Helmut noticed, of course, but I knew he would. He had always had an almost supernatural sense for these things, like he could tune into my emotional radio on a frequency I didn’t even fully know myself. Enemy or ally or… otherwise, it was a constant to be seen through and picked apart like carrion. An appetizer for the fights to come. Thankfully, though, he chose to have mercy on me this time in a rare show of respect. Instead of wrapping his lips around another snide comment- even though I could tell it was burning a bitter hole into the tip of his tongue behind his clenched teeth- he chose to pick up a ring of calamari from the plate between us. He held it up to examine the crust in the dim lamplight before placing it delicately against his lips, pulling it from the fork in one bite. Still, he couldn’t be too gracious. Helmut held eye contact as he went.
I could only managed a disgusted sigh but found myself mirrored as his teeth sunk into the squid and his brow furrowed.
“Bad?” I asked.
He chewed for a good while before managing to swallow the offending clump down, gagging all the way. “Despite my recent diet, that might be the worst thing I’ve eaten in a long while,”
A laugh escaped me before I even knew it was there. “You managed to pick a restaurant where our appetizer is worse than prison food? Serves you right for ordering seafood in the midwest,”
“I suppose it does.” He nudged the plate towards me with a growing smirk, “See for yourself. I’d hate to see it wasted, and as you said, it is ours. I can’t be expected to finish it alone,”
As if under the spell of his charisma all over again, I followed his instructions without a second thought. It was just as bad as I anticipated.
Things were off to a bad start from the moment the tines of my fork hit the batter. The breading seemed to squelch under the pressure, sagging and giving way into meat that was somehow both rubbery and gelatinous, if that was even possible, and if the texture seemed bad outside of my mouth it was even worse inside. Somewhere between its fishy tang and the overly salted batter, there was a bitter, almost sour note that seemed to permeate further with every chew. I spit the macerated glob into my napkin before even attempting to swallow down the remaining spit.
Across the table, Zemo grinned at my misfortune. “Let’s hope our entrees are less offensive to our palettes,”
“Fuck off,” I muttered, lips turning up at the edges.
“You can curse all you want at my poor choice of venue, but I can tell you’re glad you’re the one who ordered the pasta instead of the steak,”
I went for my glass again, letting the liquor with a name I couldn’t pronounce burn all the way down my throat and into my chest. “I hate that you’re always right, Helmut. Can’t you be wrong, just once? Leave some correctness for the rest of us,”
Maybe it was the lighting, soft and amber against the dark wood of the table to mask the bloody steaks that would sit below, or maybe it was the music, something old and swinging that I couldn’t quite put my finger on but knew from the radio in my grandmother’s car as a child, or maybe, just maybe, it was the crows feet that popped up around Helmut’s eyes when he smiled that hadn’t been quite so prominent the last time I’d seen him, but no matter the cause, the solid iron wall I had put up around my heart when I walked out of the Baron’s life those two year sago seemed to soften. Weakened, somehow. It was like someone took a blowtorch right to the center of my defenses. Something in me screamed that they had never been all that strong to begin with.
I only noticed I’d been staring when he looked away, clearing his throat and wiping his thin mouth with the napkin from his lap.
There went my hand. Helmut, 1. Me, 0… Well, 1, if leaving him those years ago counted for anything, and I refused to believe that it hadn’t. That the blow to his ego hadn’t given me at least a slight upper hand compared to the naive girl I had been in comparison when I first met him. There had been so much good in the world then.
The silence dragged on as if the structural flaws of my guarded heart could patch themselves up with the defenses created from just a few silent moments between us. That’s all it would take for me to remember all the reasons this would never work: all the pain, the sleepless nights, the snide comments that turned into biting replies that grew into massive, earth-shattering fights that exploded into days or weeks or months living alone in a house with him. One by one, the memories flooded back, reminding me exactly why it had taken me almost two years to find enough peace within myself that I wouldn’t decide to shoot the man in front of me on sight. My heart hardened by the second.
“I saw your concert,”
I was simultaneously thawed and frozen all over again. “How did you-“
“James mentioned it,”
“You still talk to Bucky?”
“Here and there,”
The conversation lapsed into silence.
He had… been there? I didn’t even bother to think about the talk I’d have to have with Bucky about my privacy, too focused on the more important matter at hand.
The venue was grungy, a basement bar with a small stage serving the communities aspiring comedians and desperate punk-rock garage dwellers just waiting for their big break. I had barely had the guts to pay the booking fee, though. It was just me, a piano, and my guitar for an hour and a half set of mostly cover songs that had gone better than I’d expected, but hadn’t been anything crazy. The crowd was appreciative and respectful. Several people had left tips, even more giving me a congratulatory clap on the back as I left the building that night, promising to “stream my EP” whenever I released it, despite the fact that I had no plans to do any such thing. Still, I couldn’t imagine that I hadn’t seen his face in the crowd. I couldn’t name what I was feeling as I imagined it; visualized his face on the other side of the smoky room, leaned against the bar with his dark eyes catching hold of mine…
“You came and you didn’t say anything? Not even a hello?”
Helmut laughed, but there wasn’t much humor in it. “And risk my life over a free concert? No.” He paused, “Despite my tendency to sometimes be… less than kind, I knew it would rattle you to see me. I didn’t want to throw you off before your performance.”
I didn’t have much of anything to say in response. Instead, I picked at the paper straw wrapper in my lap and tried to look anywhere but in his direction, shoving down whatever was welling up in my chest. He wouldn’t let things go, though. He never could. That was half of why we’d never work. Every time I tried to drop an uncomfortable subject he’d be there to pick it up with a snide comment or two. It was an easy rhythm. Too easy. I had never wanted to fall back into it and yet, here I was, almost excited to snipe his next words down.
“Cain misses you,” He continued.
I folded the straw wrapper in my hands, pulling at the crease as I thought about the doberman puppy I had left behind. He would be so big now, as big as the one I’d taken with me was now. My heart ached at the thought.
“I doubt he remembers me after all this time,”
“Of course he does,” Helmut’s voice was low. It was almost hypnotic, the way he carried himself. He could fool anyone. I realized, with a sinking feeling in my stomach that couldn’t have been the calamari, he could still fool me. “He’s quite the troublemaker. More times than I can count he’s evaded me in the house, only to be found asleep in your old closet. I think he remembers your scent,”
“Thats…” I sat quiet for a moment, pursing through choices of words in my mind, mulling over the sharp accented way he pronounced the t in scent, “Sad. Really sad. Makes me wish I could’ve taken them both,”
“And what of Brutus?”
“He’s good,” A smile crossed my face. “Big, as you saw tonight. I remember when we got them, they told us they’d be 60 pounds at most, but I swear Brutus must’ve snuck in with the rest of those puppies, because he’s massive. Headbutts me every time I walk through the door wondering where I was. He’s a good boy, though. Keeps watch while I sleep, just in case.”
“Just in case I decided to let myself in through the window one night?”
I let myself laugh without judgement this time, reaching for my water. “Looks like it was all for nothing, then. Who knew he’d just let intruders come waltzing in off of the fire escape?”
“Am I truly considered an intruder in your home?” He asked it as if the answer wasn’t obvious. As if there were any other answer I could possibly give. As if I could’ve wanted him there. His earnestness almost hurt as much as his taunting did, maybe more, because even if I didn’t want to admit it to myself, there was a soft ring of truth to his words.
I took the cowards way out. “I don’t know, what do you think?”
It was a vulnerability to not give a straight answer, the kind of weak spot that Helmut would catch wind of in an instant before using it to unravel someone piece by piece. Not a no, but certainly not a yes, and the fact that it hadn’t been a resounding yes was enough to glean that maybe, deep down, I wasn’t hating this dinner. He would see through me. Rip me to shreds for the subtle admittance that I hadn’t hated seeing him waiting for me on the couch when I walked through my door, even if I hadn’t expected or wanted him there in the first place.
I found it was better to lie by omission than to fully lie and let him see through me to the more important truth; For as much as I despised everything about him, I had missed Helmut Zemo. I had missed his stupid expensive taste and the tilt of his stupid head and his stupid shiny white smile. I had missed seeing his coat hung up beside the door and knowing what waited for me inside. It was sick how I had loved him. How I had loved every minute of him picking me apart by the seams and putting me back together. Who could possibly crave their own destruction? Who could live knowing that to be loved was to be deconstructed down to the bone and laid bare as something lesser, something so small compared to the great destroyer I devoted myself to.
How could he let me live like that if he truly saw through me?
And that was why I had to leave.
Loving Helmut Zemo was no way to live. I knew that. I had known that the day I picked up my dog and walked out of our home with nothing but my wallet, car keys, phone, and a polaroid picture of his silhouette. Somehow, I knew that he knew that too. Why else would I move on so suddenly, so sharply, removing every piece of the life we’d built to start myself fresh? A new me, I had said. A new chapter. Yet here I was across from him, shredded bits of paper littering my lap as he puppeteered my heart right back into his arms.
No. I couldn’t let it happen.
Not again.
“Listen, baron,” I didn’t let him answer my rhetorical question. It wouldn’t be wise to let him gain the upper hand again. It wouldn’t be smart to let myself stay weak. “I appreciate dinner. It’s been surprisingly lovely to catch up with you. I’m glad to know you’re not dead, and its great to know Cain is doing well, but I know you weren’t here to tell me that over a plate of mediocre pasta,”
Helmut smiled, his head in its signature tilt, and swished his own glass a bit. The ice was all but melted giving the liquor an almost clear quality as it diluted. Not a sip had been taken. “Ask the question, schatz,”
“Why are you here? Why did you stalk me here and break into my apartment when I made it clear that you weren’t welcome in my life?” My words came out so matter of fact even I almost recoiled at them. Not unemotional but detached.
“Um, who had the chicken alfredo?”
I could feel the blood drain from my face as I looked up at the poor waiter, hot plates in hand, as he took in our table at just the wrong time. Five minutes earlier he would have walked in on polite conversation about the dogs or the shitty appetizers. Now, though, he stood between a man who was known to kill for the things he wanted and me, the one thing he could never have again.
Surprisingly, though, Helmut waved a hand towards me as I froze. There were none of the usual dramatics, just polite chatter with the waiter as he set my plate in front of me and left Helmut with his, taking the offending calamari plate away with him as he scurried away, surely to tell his coworkers about the crazy exes at the corner table. Helmut didn't even carry on with his answer. He just started tucking in to his steak and potatoes, not sparing me a single glance. If I didn’t know better, if I hadn’t memorized the way his eyes looked in the low light of a restaurant across from me, I would think he’d been replaced by a skrull.
Where was the tearing? The shredding? The utter evisceration of my waiting throat as he drank deeply of my darkest, most shameful thoughts only to spit them out for the world to see. Where was that shame? In the before times, in the times that the two of us had been a we, he never would have paused to mind a waiter. The world would have revolved around him as he laid me bare, no matter who watched or waited in the wings. What changed?
How had I not noticed his docility until now?
The pasta was decent. It was better than anything I would’ve made at home, at least. I barely thought about it, though, letting my body go through the motions of eating mechanically while my mind went over a million things I could say. What could I say? There was nothing left to. We had gone over every possibility before I had left, at least I thought we had. Whatever we were was dead. That was certain. But what we could be…
I swallowed hard before I could choke on a relatively large piece of broccoli I neglected to chew in my trance.
Helmut seemed to be in a painfully similar situation. One look at his plate showed a steak cut into tiny pieces. Almost none of it looked eaten, just diced into a pile and shuffled around a bit on the plate to mix with the potatoes, smashed down from their neat ice cream scoop globe and spread with the back of a fork.
With a sigh, I set down my fork, pasta already forgotten.
“Lost your appetite?”
He paused his fiddling with his fork and knife, mirroring me and letting the utensils rest on the table beside his plate. It was odd to see him rattled. Strange to watch his eyes roll up to the ceiling and pause there, as if he was searching for the right words to say. He always knew just what to say to cut the deepest. Maybe it was foreign for him to not want to cut; To find a soft word, instead of a sharpened one. His mouth opened one… two…three times. Open and shut, open and shut. I couldn’t help but hurt for him. The man of many words was finally struck dumb.
Finally, it came.
“I’m sorry,”
I had anticipated a selfish reply, a demand for me to come back and put the past two years behind us, but time had changed him. It had changed us both. He was no longer the man he had been when he was first freed from behind bars, vengeful and biting and so deeply afraid of being alone again, but I was no longer the lost girl I had been either. I did not need to be destroyed to breathe. I could feel tears pricking up in my eyes as he reached a hand across the table to search for my own. It was such a familiar sight in a time of uncertainty. I kept my hands firmly in my lap, though. I would not give him the satisfaction.
More, I would not give him hope.
“Come home, schatz,”
There it was.
I couldn’t hold in the bitter, wet laugh that bubbled up through me, more at my own foolishness than at anything else. He had changed, yes, but some things never would.
“Helmut,” The word hurt to say. It was altogether both familiar and unfamiliar, covered in a thick layer of dust from time, but nothing could erase the fact that it had once been used over and over, like a prayer, as easy as breathing or saying my own name. “You know I can’t,”
He let his hand slink back to his side. “I had to try, you know,”
“I know,” The words were a whisper.
So this was closure?
The table was quiet. There was no desperation from Helmut’s side, no attempts to sway me or sudden outbursts of resentment. It was almost peaceful. His voice was sad but there was no manipulation in it. We laid our cards of the table as the game we’d played for years finally came to an end.
“You were right about us, when you left,” he laughed, “I was, as you so aptly put it, a massive ass. I was still so deeply disillusioned about this world and the horrors of it. It was as if everyone around me was just another cog in it all, even you. I thought if I could puppet it all, make things go my way, everything could just be quiet. The horrors would finally stop. The memories would finally stop. I took it too far, though. I took it out on you. For that, I will never be sorry enough,”
I put up a hand. “Helmut, you don’t have to do this-“
“I want to,”
His voice was delicate but didn’t waver. For the first time I wondered if this was more about what he needed to say than about what I needed to hear. I nodded him on. Without me even thinking about what I was doing, my hand caught his across the table.
“I wanted to run after you the same day you left. I nearly did, too, before I thought better of it. Then I really thought of what you said. What I did. It was then that I decided I had to change for the better, not for you but for myself. Only then would I allow myself to try again. So I did. I spent my time deconstructing the things I had seen and done and finally facing my own demons. I’m not perfect- believe me -but there are many things I have… worked on, for lack of a better word. James was surprisingly helpful throughout it all,”
“Is that why you’ve been talking?” My thumb stroked over his knuckles, pausing on a scar.
“More or less. I needed advice on how to overcome my atrocities, and I owed him an apology either way. He told me about your concert because he thought I would be ready to make amends, and yet I found myself unable to speak to you because I knew that if I did, I would have to beg you for forgiveness, and that is not something I will allow myself to do from anyone. Not now, nor ever,”
I let myself pull away. This was not a movie. There was no happy ending for the two of us at the end of this conversation. It was a chance to clear the air and let go of our grievances before going our separate ways. Treating it any other way would only hurt us both. “Why break in, then, and drag this all out over dinner? Why not just knock on my door, apologize, and leave?”
“I couldn’t have you slamming the door in my face and leaving me to apologize to the wall, now could I?”
We shared a sad smile, a knowing one. “I guess that’s true.”
“I needed to know you would hear what I had to say until the end,” he paused, “And one last confession. I must admit, I could not walk away without sharing dinner with you one last time. It’s selfish, as I am selfish, but I could not see you again without truly seeing you, more than just as you shouted at me and threw me to the curb,”
“You think so little of me?” I asked. There was no bite in it.
“No, I think so little of myself,” he finally took a sip from his glass, “Any anger on your part is warranted,”
We did not speak again for a long while. Helmut methodically went through the bite-sized pieces of steak on his plate as I finished the alfredo, which had grown cold in the time it took to sort things out. There was no quiet conversation, no jokes or shared stories in the glow of the lamps overhead. Instead we sat in peaceable silence and breathed in the finality of it all. I was almost grateful for it. I never would have imagined sharing a meal like this with him in all of the years I had known him and loved him. If it was to be the last, and it was, we would savor every moment of each others company. Every moment not spent on my meal was devoted to memorizing the line of his jaw and the shape of his eyes as he did the same for me.
By the time the waiter came to ask about dessert, I could have written sonnets about his face alone, and by the time he returned with the check, paid discreetly with a 40% tip for his troubles on Helmut’s card, I had committed the sound of his breathing to my mind. I could only hope the memory would last this time.
Realistically, I knew it wouldn’t.
I wondered if he was thinking the same thing as we approached the front of the restaurant together, pausing awkwardly outside the door as we exited out onto the street.
“So, this is it,” My hands found the pockets of my coat as I rocked onto the balls of my feet.
Helmut smiled softly in the lamplight. “Let me walk you home,”
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,”
“Says who? I have to follow you either way, my car is parked down the block,” He offered me his arm.
I took it far quicker than I should have, relishing in the scent of his cologne. Even after all these years he had never switched to another brand, and I refused to admit to anyone else but myself that I was grateful for it. Instead I leaned into his warmth. “Well, it’s only a few blocks anyways. I guess it couldn’t hurt,” and with that, we were off.
The night was cool. Summer had given in to the pull of a lush fall, the temperatures dropping to a comfortable but windy chill when the sun fell below the horizon. The leaves were not yet falling but they’d begun their slow transformation from green into a mosaic of reds and yellows and greens, forming a rustling canopy above the sidewalk that allowed a flash of stars and moon through the foliage every few steps.
We were not the only pair walking through the streets that night, but if you had asked me about it later I would have said we were the only two people in the whole city, matching each other step for step under the flickering streetlights. Helmut’s crows feet were in full force as he laughed at my terrible jokes, and I couldn’t help but feel warmth rush through my neck and cheeks as he recounted the moment we first met.
It had been fall then, too. A brief, chance encounter in the streets of Paris was all it was, a night spend with a stranger, until I had seen him again in Sibera, and again in Germany, and again on the Raft, and again, and again, and again, and again…
He had been younger then, much younger, and still raw with grief, but I had loved him even then.
I was so lost in my own memories that I almost missed the stairs up to my apartment, but Helmut paused there, keeping me rooted with him even though the look in his eyes told me he almost kept walking past, hoping to gain one more turn around the block before he had to let me go. He didn't, though. This was the end of the line.
My arm slipped easily from its place against his own, hand catching briefly on the crook of his elbow. “Walk me to my door?”
His laugh felt almost nervous, a paid mockery of my own earlier reticence. “I don’t think that’s wise,”
“Aren’t you supposed to be a gentleman, baron?”
“I have never claimed that,” For a moment, when he paused, I thought that would be that. I would turn my back, ascend the stairs, and turn around to find he’d shifted back into the shadows from whence he came, but then the moonlight caught on his soft, wet eyes. “But for you, schatz, I try to be,”
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t find the words I wanted to say as we walked up the front steps and into the building.
It had been so angry last time. I had vomited up every hateful, raging, repressed thought that I had shoved down into my chest over the course of our turbulent time together all at once and left without a second glance. This time, though, it felt wrong to end things without giving him credit for all of the other things, the things I had forgotten in the midst of all the chaos that surrounded us. How could I thank him? How could I tell him every wonderful thing about himself only to close the door in his face a moment later? I spent the whole trip up to my apartment trying to find a way to express even an ounce of what I felt, and then it was far too late.
We stood there on my novelty doormat, boots settled over the dirty cartoon chickens, hands in our pockets, and breathed in the stale hallway air.
“Thank you for dinner,” I said. If I shut off my heart and my mind and every other little betraying ache in my bones it was like it had been all those years ago. We were just meeting. This was the end of our very first date. There was a future instead of a past in the time that lay beyond us.
Helmut averted his eyes from mine. I could tell he was pretending too. “Of course,”
“I’ll see you again,” I lied, “I mean, it’s inevitable. We’ll end up at Bucky’s place at the same time,”
“Or run into each other at a busy cafe,” he offered.
“Exactly! Or our cells will end up next to each other in maximum security prison,” I laughed, but it caught, pathetic, in the back of my throat.
He took a step back, boots leaving my doorstep. “I look forward to it, whenever it may be,”
My shaking hands found my keys, an autopilot motion I had done a million times, and the door to my apartment swung open. I could hear Brutus in his kennel, beginning to whine the moment he heard me come home, but I paused there for a moment, one foot in and one foot out.
“Goodbye, Helmut,”
“Sleep well, schatz,”
I stepped inside and locked the door without turning around for a last look.
My tears came quicker than expected as I took in the room around me. It was the antithesis of my home with Helmut, all whites and beiges and grays from the sparse walls to the lonely couch against the wall. There was one great shock of black, though; a solid footprint on the windowsill. One last souvenir to remember him by.
I had done the right thing.
I had to have done the right thing.
Life with Helmut was hell. It was exciting and lush and romantic and alluring but it was destructive and painful too. It would mean being seen and unseen for the rest of my life, living with the ghosts of those lost in Novi Grad. He would never stop being the man his grief had created. He was just too broken… wasn’t he?
All at once I knew I had to see him again. This wasn’t going to be the end. There were still so many chances to make it right.
Before I knew my own feelings, I was undoing the latch and throwing my door open, only to find him there, feet planted solidly on that stupid welcome mat and fist raised to lift the knocker. Our eyes locked.
We didn’t need words then.
No, all I needed was his lips on mine and my hands in his hair. It was a need easily rectified.
He didn’t pull away as I grabbed the edges of his ridiculous fur coat and dragged him in for a kiss, letting the remains of that day’s lipstick smear against his chapped lips as the parted and made way for me. It was like a piece of my puzzle fell back into place, like the thing that had been lying dormant in my empty chest for the past two years had jumped to life and jumped into my throat. The tears weren’t coming anymore, though Helmut’s cheeks felt wet when I guided one of my hands to rest against it, dragging him closer. I needed him urgently. I needed all of it. Every moment I had missed.
At least one time in my entire tiny, useless life I needed to know him as he had always known me. I had to see him through eyes that would know every atom of him by heart.
It could have lasted second or hours. I was lost in it; lost in every heartbeat and the messy clack of teeth on teeth as we remembered exactly how our mouths locked into each other. There was no need to breathe. I would happily drown in him if he would let me. Through the passion I distinctly remembered this fervor, the endless need for him. It wasn’t frightening anymore, though. I knew how to walk away. We both did.
This time I didn’t want to.
Helmut was the first to pull away. His mouth was wet and red as he panted there, just a breath away from diving in for more, but he pulled away when I advanced again, instead choosing to speak between placing kisses on my cheeks and down my jaw. “I couldn’t let you walk away from me. Not again,” his voice shook as he kissed me, “Does that make me a bad man? Does that mean you can’t love me?”
I could only breathe a laugh as I pressed my chest to him. No measure of closeness was enough. I needed him to cover every inch of me. “I don’t think I could stop loving you if I tried, and I’ve tried,”
“Please, stop trying,”
With that, he caught me in another kiss.
“We should probably go inside,” I panted, gesturing towards the apartment with my head and Helmut nodded, maneuvering us over the threshold and into the barren entryway of the home I’d made without him. It didn’t matter, though. That wasn’t what I was focused on. Instead, my hands were more focused on pulling his coat from his shoulders and discarding it loosely in the direction of the coat rack between fevered kisses.
The old Helmut would’ve pulled away and make some snarky remark about keeping the place clean. This Helmut, though- my Helmut, as I had selfishly started to refer to him mentally in the past few moments -just dragged me in closer after his arms were freed, letting his hand drift to the small of my back but not even an inch lower.
Suddenly, though, things seemed to cool. The kisses grew shorter, softer. His arms still held me but seemed to loosen their grip.
“Tell me you want this,” He whispered softly against the shell of my ear, “That you want me,”
Ah. So that’s what this is.
“Helmut, of course I do-“
“That’s not enough,” his voice was laced with a rare seriousness as he pulled away to look at me properly. His brown eyes glowed a million honeyed colors under the shitty, flickering overhead lighting I should have replaced months ago. They flitted from my swollen mouth to my cheeks to my watery eyes as his hand came up to cup my cheeks again. “Tell me this isn’t a mistake or a bad decision you’ll regret the second we finish,”
The rest went unsaid.
(Tell me you’ll stay. Tell me this means something to you, even if it doesn’t mean as much as it does to me. Tell me I won’t wake up alone tomorrow morning. Tell me anything and everything except the cruel reality that neither of us really knows what the future looks like once this is over)
I simply nodded my head, coming in for one closed mouth kiss. “I want this. I want you. Whatever I choose to do next, you’ll be a part of the decision. No more running away,”
Like a shot, we were off to the races again.
It was hard to detach our bodies long enough to give Brutus a treat to quiet him down, harder still to lead him to the bedroom and drop his hand long enough to turn on a nearby lamp, but somehow I managed. For all of the small things I’d forgotten about Helmut in the two years we’d spent apart, his bitten nails and the silhouette of his nose and the sound of his labored breathing as he took in my body with something akin to animalistic hunger, it was easy to fall back into the rhythm we’d always found ourselves in intimately.
His shirt came off first, exposing the soft curve of his stomach. I kissed down from his neck to his chest, letting myself pause on each and every pinkish scar that graced his flesh. I made a mental note to ask him about a few new ones, including a wicked one across his collarbone that still puckered into an inch long divot in his flesh. My fingers followed my mouth, mapping every inch of his flesh. They caught on every soft yielding place he offered, a worship on the altar of his body, dragging his flesh ever so slightly but never enough to leave a scratch or bruise.
I would not mark him any more than the world already had. It was not my purpose to remold him into my image. Instead I would venerate what he was, what he had become.
Helmut had put so much effort into changing himself, rebreaking the things that had never healed correctly and setting them right again. I refused to let him break down to splinters again. Not on my watch.
He shuddered at my attentions.
“Let me see you?” It was a question, not a demand, and how could I deny him when he asked so nicely?
I stood up again, relishing in the feeling of his fingers against the hem of my t-shirt, the gentle scratch of nails on skin as he lifted it over my head. When he looked at me, it was like he was looking at the most precious thing in the world. Usually he was so hungry for it that there was never a pause once my shirt was discarded. My bra would be thrown off with it, then my pants, then my underwear, all in such quick succession that I barely distinguished one article from the next in the order of things. This time, though, he paused, hands just inches from my bare flesh.
“My sweet girl,” he whispered to me like a prayer, a confession, “I don’t think I can hold back much longer,”
Slowly, deliberately, I stepped forward and pressed my body into his awaiting hands. He squeezed my hips once, gentle, and twice. Then they were roaming up to the clasp on my bra with that usual hunger again, freeing my breasts for his attentions. I don’t exactly recall how he manhandled me on to the bed, I was too busy feeling the hard press of his bulge through his crisp dress slacks. The first thing I was fully cognizant of was his hot breath on my sternum as he hovered over me, still standing but bent at the waist, boxing me in with his knees.
“So fucking sweet,” he whispered before taking one of my nipples between his lips and laving his tongue over the hardening tip.
I felt like a live wire. Heat was building everywhere. Dazzling electricity shot through my head and fingers and toes and cunt and gods especially my breasts. They were always my weak spot, and how he knew it, how he knew me. I wanted to thrash against him, to buck and gain his attention where I really needed it, but his body above mine held me fast, keeping me right where he wanted me, vulnerable to him and his specific brand of torture. With a particularly sharp pinch and a well timed suck he had me keening against him, curling into his every move.
How had I lived without him? It was hard to imagine a night not spend here with Helmut, wherever here was, not that that mattered. I was embarrassingly wet. The slickness had gathered enough that I could feel it on my thighs despite my jeans. When I tried to relieve myself, though, the baron caught my hand, tutting softly.
I expected to have to ask permission. Soft begs escaped my mouth. I needed him. I had no patience for games. Instead, though, he lifted up off of my chest and smiled, pulling my hand to his lips. “Let me help you, love,”
There are no words in the human language that could adequately represent the sound that escaped my mouth. I could not even begin to try. It continued even as I lifted my hips to shimmy free from my jeans and underwear in one fluid motion, only ceasing when Helmut was on his knees with his face buried in my cunt. I was making different noises then. Loud. Guttural. If I had any mind left at all I would worry what my neighbors thought, to see me out on my doorstep desperately pawing at a man only to hear the noises we were making in tandem now. Thankfully, any sensible thought I had left seemed to fly out the window with Helmut’s first lick to my cunt.
It was clear that he hadn’t forgotten me, and if he had, the muscle memory was coming back quick. His tongue was deft as it worked its way over my aching nub in a pseudo-figure eight; circling once, twice, and three times before dipping back through my folds. I held him in place this time, though, rocking into his mouth. At some point my hands found their way into his hair. It was so soft between my fingers, so pliable as I pulled against him, desperate for more of him, anything he would good.
Every time he relented to me. Each sharp jolt was rewarded with a kiss against my thigh or a muttered curse in Sokovian, hot breath teasing my glistening mound.
He was so giving, so attentive to my every need. He had always been a generous lover, never leaving me wanting for anything, but this felt… different. The way he sucked bruises into my thighs, relenting to each and every sobbing please that escaped my soft lips, was a new and devastating experience. There were no power games left to play, no lording his sexual prowess over me as he brought me slowly closer and closer to the ever distant goalpost, just his mouth on me over and over and over again as he wrung the first orgasm of the night out of me, then the second in short measure, barely ceasing from one to the next.
By the time he decided I’d had my fill, my legs were a trembling mess against his shoulders and my cunt was a sopping mess.
He grinned a crooked grin at his masterpiece.
“How was that, my love,”
I could barely catch my breath enough to speak. My heartbeat thundered in my ears, thrumming a frantic drumbeat even as the room quieted. “So good- really really good, Helmut,”
Slowly, he rose up from his knees, undoing his belt. “Please say my name again, schatz,”
“Helmut,” My voice was hushed. Reverent.
He undid the button at his fly, pulling at the band of his boxers. “Again,”
It fell from my lips like a prayer. “Helmut,”
His cock bounced free, bobbing as he took a sharp, steadying breath. He placed his hand at the base and squeezed slightly.
“Again,”
“Helmut,”
“Fuck, that’s good,” The trance broke momentarily as I gazed up at him, watching the sweat roll down his forehead in shining rivulets despite the chill in the air. He wiped at them with the back of his free hand and smiled sheepishly. “Scoot back and get comfortable, please. I don’t think I’ll last long,”
I did as he asked, settling against my pillows on the still-made sheets. “Neither will I,”
“Where are your condoms?”
“Bedside drawer, way in the back. I’m on the pill too, so no worries,”
He moved quickly, grabbing a foil package from the small pile I’d accrued, just in case.
It felt odd to have him be the one using them.
There had been a few other men who had been invited here, fewer still that made it to the point that Helmut and I were at now. Every time, though, I hadn’t been able to go through with it, because every time they had finally settled themselves above me, I would close my eyes and, just for a moment, see Helmut in their place. It was unsettling the first time, enough so that I sent the guy home right away. The next time, though, it was more thought provoking than anything. I chalked it up to him being my longest lasting sexual partner and left it at that, but now, watching him roll the condom onto his length and crawl into his position over me, I knew.
I would never get over him, even if I tried for years. My heart had a space carved out in the shape of his own. No matter how long I stayed away, I would never find something quite like what we had. He was it. This was what people dreamed about. And to think, I had almost let it slip away…
He slid one hand into mine, lacing our fingers together in the gentle lamplight. “Are you ready for me?”
“More than ready,” My thighs spread as I canted my hips up.
Physically and mentally and every other possible way I needed him. I was prepared.
So Helmut pumped himself once with his free hand before guiding himself into my wet heat.
It was impossible to last long once we were finally complete.
Feeling him inside me was like knowing the truth of the universe. It was comfortable, and thrilling, and so deliciously enough. He filled me well, finding his rhythm as he swore and released my hand to prop himself up more comfortably. We were linked together like the final pieces of a puzzle. I closed my eyes at let myself relish in it.
There was nothing left to worry over while Helmut was inside of me. All thoughts that weren’t of him were banished. It was something to be cherished, every thrust paired with a whispered confession of love from one of us, a fleeting kiss, a curse, a plea… We laid ourselves bare. I let my legs wrap around his warm, soft hips as he rutted into me, bringing a hand between us to circle my clit once more. Even after everything he refused to leave me behind while he chased his own pleasure. It didn’t take much to send me tumbling over the edge into oblivion.
As always, Helmut followed me down.
His thrusts quickened, then stilled as he came to rest upon me, panting and heaving and begging for breath. I didn’t care much. He smelled of cologne and sweat as I buried my face in his shoulder and closed my eyes. I could feel him soften inside of me but I was far too spent to urge him to move.
We only shifted apart when he slipped free of me.
Helmut quickly kissed my forehead and gathered himself up, shuffling to the trash can to discard the used condom and grab a tissue to wipe himself up. I didn’t let myself move an inch. If I moved, would the bliss run away? Would I realize what I’d done? I let myself lay instead, eyes closed, panting in the autumn chill as my lover approached and wiped up our beautiful mess as gently as he could manage. With one last kiss to my thigh, he discarded the rag, opened the window, and crawled back into bed with me.
The process was indelicate, a lot of awkward shuffling of sticky limbs, but we were settled beneath the blankets soon enough. Helmut stroked his fingers down my arm languidly while kissing the back of my neck.
I broke the peace between us.
“I don’t… I don’t know what this means for us,”
He sighed gently. His breath was soothing and familiar against my shoulder. “That’s not something we have to decide at this very moment,”
“But I just don’t want you to think this means something… or at least something more than it does? If that makes sense? I don’t know,”
“Schatz, please,”
“I want to keep my own place, at least for now. I don’t know what that means for when I’ll see you or if we’ll keep doing this,” I gestured vaguely to my nude body beneath the sheets, “or if we’re even a thing anymore, bu-“
Helmut reached his arm around us, placing a quieting finger over my lips and another soft kiss against my shoulder.
“I swear, your mind sounds even louder than mine,”
“Sorry,”
“No reason to be,” His hand left my lips, running down to my stomach and pulling me back towards the softness of his chest. “As for your questions, I shall respect your wishes about distance and housing and labels, whatever they may be. That being said, as long as you’re still up for… this, as you put it, I will never deny you, no matter the distance. I would cross oceans for you,”
A cum-drunk, half-asleep giggle escaped me as he nuzzled in, kissing my ear.
“Thank you,”
“No, thank you,” he matched my laughter with his own, “I believe this is what James would call post nut clarity,”
“Now you ruined it!” I huffed. The faux anger only lasted a moment, though, before I was rolling to face him, cheek pressed to the soft, downy hair of his chest. “I love you, Helmut.”
“I love you too, sweet girl. Now sleep. I’ll get up and deal with the dog once you’re resting,”
For the first time in two years, I breathed in the scent of Helmut’s cologne before lapsing into a peaceful sleep.
---------
A/N: Thank you for reading! This is my first foray into smut in literal years, and it was literally all written within a 12 hour period, so I hope any mistakes weren't enough to take away from your enjoyment. Comments are always appreciated, but never expected. See you on the next authors note!
#zemo#helmut zemo#baron zemo#zemo x reader#daniel brühl#fanfic#marvel fanfiction#x reader#helmut zemo x reader#baron helmut zemo x reader#daniel bruhl x reader#zemo smut#marvel smut
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hey im sorry if you already answered this and i don’t mean to antagonize you, but out of curiosity: why do you tag your Palestine posts with feminism? i don’t want to come off as rude but it did kind of confuse me at first
It's no worries at all, I have addressed this a handful of times, and another person asked me, and I answered. The anon question is deep in my page, so I'll share some posts I've spoken about why more feminists need to be talking about Gaza below, and address why not talking about this as a feminist issue is problematic.
The fight to dismantle power structures and institutions doesn't end at the patriarchy, but when there is an end to white supremacy, capitalism, and western imperialism, among other axises of oppression.
Strides and fights to liberation shouldn't be cherry-picked (we see this predominantly in white feminism -who only act when it personally effects them). And at the most technical level, women's experiences are intersectional and extend beyond just liberation from gender norms and expectations -yes, it is at the core of feminist discourse, to shatter ceilings and demand equity across the board, but that also includes the intersections -race, class status, disability, sexuality, religion, ethnicity, among many other aspects of our identities.
Women and children are also disproportionately impacted and killed by IOF terrorism. They are targeted purposely, and I addressed this in some of the posts below. An IOF official liked a post that said Palestinian women part of the 'Hamas infrastructure' and said they must be 'dealt' with via their deaths. Pregnant Palestinian women are being left without care during their trimesters, and tens of thousands of them have zero to inadequate care; and many are miscarrying. There is also a period care shortage, and many Palestinians have resorted to using cloths. Which overall the lack of access can cause health ramifications in the future.
So this is why ALL my posts are tagged with feminist and feminism. Especially when the IOF regularly uses 'don't the feminists of the world care that Hamas is raping Israeli women' in their propoganda videos and campaigns in order to spread misinformation and weaponize women's and feminist liberation movements to excuse their genocide of Palestinian people.
We should also not forget about the rampant sexual violence Palestinian women and children have and continue to experience by abusive, predatory rapists among the IOF soldiers, both past and present. Especially in the prisons' systems. I talk about this a lot on my page. So much of what I included below is only a fraction of what I have spoken about. My bottom line is if you're a feminist who talks about "women's liberation" and that doesn't include ALL women being systematically oppressed by settler/imperial/colonial forces, and you're especially not critical of your governments being complicit or funding a genocide, don't call yourself a feminist.
I hope this offers some clarity.
#feminist#feminism#social justice#free palestine#freepalastine🇵🇸#free gaza#settler violence#settler colonialism#current events#current news#violence against children#violence against women#war on gaza#gaza strip#gaza#tw sa mention#tw sa#intersectional social justice#intersectional activism#intersectional feminism#intersectionality#end the occupation
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PLEASE tell me you have plans/powers for Tatsuki in AEIWAM, she's my biggest pet peeve from Bleach, criminally underused
I don't have a lot with Tatsuki drafted out yet, but she does play a prominent role in the fic, starting with going to Seireitei with the gang instead of Uryuu in the soul society arc. Have this bit with her and Uryuu:
---
Inside urahara Shoten, a few days before everyone* leaves for Seireitei to rescue Rukia:
"Ichigo." Uryuu glared magnificently at him, glasses shining in the dingy flourescent lights inside the display room of the Urahara Shoten. "I'm coming with you."
"...Uhhhh-" Ichigo began.
"I know- I have not behaved... rationally, as of late. Setting off an entire pack of hollow bait in the middle of a heavily populated city in some kind of demented dick-measuring contest with a classmate who is only peripherally involved in the cult bullshit my family is trying to escape was. Not the most hinged behavior." Uryuu started.
"That's putting it mildly." Muttered Keigo.
"-But you were right that my anger was misplaced, and you and Rukia both have been so kind to me, that- Look, this grudge between Quincy and Shinigami has gone on long enough- it's gone on so long I don't even really understand why it got started!"
"-Yeah, okay but-" Ichigo tried to speak up.
"So I'm coming with you. If Rukia hadn't stepped in with the portal closure device I don't know what would have happened, and I- I owe her just as much as you do, Ichigo!"
"You do, but-"
"Dammit Ichigo I'm sorry! I'm sorry for what I did and I need to make it up to her and bury this stupid fucking hatchet between our people and-"
"DUDE!" Ichigo shouted, slapping both hands against Uryuu's cheeks and smooshing his face until he looked like an alarmed goldfish with Hyperopia-corrective glasses. "Uryuu- It's okay. You and I are cool. You are Rukia are cool. I don't know all of what's going on with your family and soul society, but I feel like they could eventually be cool too."
Uryuu smiled as best he could with his face compressed like this, tears in his eyes.
"...However-" Ichigo sighed. "Rukia's Boss who runs the whole Soul Society is apparently the kind of maniac that sends people's own family members to arrest and imprison them for minor accidents in the field, which is, as you say, not the most hinged behavior, and not someone who I expect to be cool about anything, but especially not my friend, the son of people who were involved in something called a 'Thousand Year Blood War' with said boss, coming to said boss's house, specifically to commit crime. I feel like that's antithetical to the whole 'No more blood feud' movement."
"...I shee yourg poind." Uryu mumbled, face still smooshed in Ichigo's hands.
"Also, didn't you get hit by a truck?" asked Tatsuki.
"What?" Demanded Ichigo.
"Ah. Yeah." Uryuu said, face still smooshed. "Id'z fine though! Onngly a Hairline Fragture!" he said, gesturing to the middle of his forearm
"Bruh." Chorused Ichigo, Tatsuki, Chad, Keigo and Mizuiro.
"Based on every medical rant I've ever heard both your dads give, you absolutely not be doing magical archery when you've got any broken bone, but especially not a broken radius." Sighed Orihime.
"Well, I mean- You guys still need a Medic!" He tried.
"Orihime's shield can heal... like, anything, apparently." Tatsuki shrugged.
"Oh don't worry, I armed everyone!" Mizuiro beamed, and Uryuu noticed the holsters out on the table where Mizuiro was working.
"...Ohg." Uryuu wilted, and Ichigo let go of his face.
"Don't feel too bad," Keigo said, standing on his tip-toes to pat Uryuu's shoulder sympathetically. "-Mizuiro and I aren't actually going either."
"Yeah because I'm also a Quincy, and because you just generally suck." Mizuiro called, returning his attention to the holsters.
"...Actually." Ichigo frowned at Mizuiro. "There IS something you can do here that would help out and I'm sure Rukia will be glad you did."
"Really? I mean, I'll do it." Uryuu smiled. "Its okay Ichigo, you're risking your life, the least I can do is run a few errands and do some sewing here."
"-cool, because I need you to leverage your reputation as a goody-two-shoes and lie to all our families and school about where we are." Said Ichigo.
"...Ah." Uryuu sighed. "I will do this, but I cannot promise results. I am. Not good at deception."
"Doesn't matter, everyone believes you no matter what anyway." Tatsuki shrugged. "Anyway, until then, you wanna come down and watch training while you sew?"
"Uh. Sure?" Uryuu shrugged. "Wait, why do only you three need uniforms? It's not just you guys going, right?"
"Well, Ichigo already got one with his new magical girl powers-" Tatsuki waved, walking towards the back of the shop. "Urahara's a chickenshit and not coming with us, and Yoruichi-san who is coming with us is a cat."
"A... Cat?" Uryuu asked. "Like Kon?"
"-You know? I didn't ask?" Tatsuki frowned, opening up the trapdoor in the back room of the store. "She's really good at Martial Arts though- this Hakuda shit ROCKS! See ya at the bottom!" she grinned, before sliding down the ladder.
---
It took Uryuu a solid twelve minutes to get to the bottom, unwilling to slide like Tatsuki and Ichigo, until Chad grabbed him around the middle near the bottom and set him down.
"Its okay." He said. "It took me a few days to get used to sliding too."
"Th-thanks." Uryuu muttered looking around the enormous room. There was a distant crack like lightning, and Uryuu peered around one of the many boulders in s faux-desert landscaping to see Tatsuki, wearing only a halter top and bike shorts, facing down a small black cat, lighting crackling from between her shoulder blades.
At least, he saw her for a second, before Tatsuki transformed into a blur and then vanished altogether, appearing briefly in little flashes of afterimage, trying to high-kick the cat fifty feet in the air, blocking a return kick from the cat two hundred feet away, throwing a punch right next to him, only to vanish again in a gust of air, even outrunning her own dust trail.
"Did you know that the National Champion of the High School karate Tournament almost always sits the following year out?" Ichigo asked behind Uryuu, making him jump. "Usually from injuries, but I think in her case, Tatsuki will have moved on to an entirely different class of opponent."
"Is- Is Tatsuki also a Shinigami?" Uryuu asked, deeply alarmed.
"No, we don't know what she is, actually." Ichigo shrugged, looking puzzled. And... smelling strangely skunkish.
"Do you have a new bodyspray or are we doing drug violations as well as war crimes down here?" Uryuu winced, nose crinkling.
"What? Oh, the weed. No, I'm not doing weed or anything but Kisuke always REEKS of the stuff- Shit, did it get into my clothes? It's so bad I can't even smell it anymore, my brain just blocks it out-"
"Wait, Kisuke? Like, Kisuke Urahara? Stuptid hat and Geta, looks kind of like Shaggy from Scooby-Doo?" Uryuu asked.
"Yeah!" Ichigo frowned. "...wait, how do YOU know him?"
"...He's uh- hm. Okay, I don't know the exact nature of his business relationship with my father, but I hear dad complain about him raising his prices when he thinks I'm in bed." Uryuu winced.
Ichigo frowned for a moment, before putting his hands on his hips in and turning to holler over his shoulder. "AY SANDALHAT! YOU DEALING TO URYUU'S DAD?"
"Yo, WHAT?" Shouted Tatsuki. reappearing next to them, face full of gleeful anticipation for fresh drama.
"Don't get distraOW!" Yelped Yoruichi as it dove for Tatsuki, only for her to pivot-kick the feline into the far wall anyway.
"GOTCHYERASS!" Tatsuki bellowed triumphantly.
"Okay!" Yoruichi called weakly from a pile of rubble. "Good job there- FUCK, DAMMIT GIRL!!"
"You said 'No Mercy'!" Tatsuki shouted, grinning as she followed Yoruichi across the training ground and set up to axe-kick her into the floor. "NO MERCY!!"
"I am not 'dealing' to Ryukken, I am selling him what would be perfectly legal chemical therapies to treat hollowfication and other supernatural disorders, if the leadership of the living world knew about hollows. Which they don't, but it's not illegal." Kisuke sighed, appearing at Ichigo's shoulder. "Also, what are you doing down here?"
"Tatsuki invited me." Uryuu blinked. "I'm making everyone's shinigami uniforms and providing their alibis.
"And that girl has the nerve to lecture me about Operational Security..." Urahara sighed. "Still, good to have you on board. Don't worry, mum's the word to your families- I don't want to lose some of my best customers!" he winked.
"-Or have another thing for Mr. Kanonji to write you up for!" Tatsuki beamed, appearing again with Yoruichi under her arm. "You're really slow today, do you need to go to the vet or something?" She asked with genuine concern.
"It's his fault for keeping me up all night." Yoruichi groaned, pointing a claw at Urahara.
"-Yeah but the hangover is all you." Kisuke grinned.
"My therapist says I have so many issues with authority and trusting adults because of shit like this, you know." Ichigo sighed.
"I thought those were your daddy issues." Said Tatsuki.
"I mean, they're primarily my Dad's fault, but two out of three of the adults helping us with rescuing our friend from another dimension getting wasted in the middle of training isn't helping." Ichigo glared at Urahara. "Don't let the posture and good nature fool you, watch the sword- the only reason he's not hungover is that he woke up still drunk."
"DUDE!" Tatsuki glared, tossing Yoruichi at him, who he very nearly fumbled catching.
"C'mon Uryuu, let's go say hi to Tessai, THE REAL ADULT HERE-!" Tatsuki shouted over her shoulder, throwing an arm around Uryuu's and walking off while Ichigo lit into the combat instructors about the seriousness of the situation.
"...I have to say, this is not inspiring a lot of confidence in the operation." Uryuu mumbled.
"Yeah, but who else can we talk to? Your dad?" Tatsuki sighed.
"Ugh." Uryuu moaned.
"It'll be okay- I kinda expected them to be a bit of a mess this morning, what with it being the first weekend since Yoruichi got here that we weren't also here." Tatsuki smirked, winking.
Uryuu frowned. "...Are you implying that Mr. Urahara is in a romantic relationship with a Cat?"
"I know, talk about a weird way to get your Pussy!" Tatsuki laughed at Uryuu's distraught expression. "Ease up Uryuu- Mr. Yoruichi passes the Harkness Test as-is, and I'm like... 94% sure he's a shapeshifter. We ride Mr. Urahara pretty hard as a matter of principle, but he and Mr. Yoruichi are actually pretty good teachers most of the time- we just want to keep them to that high standard, you know?"
"Hm. You ah, Have advanced significantly in martial arts since the last time I saw you fight, but that was at the club fair demo event back in March." Uryuu nodded.
"I promise I wasn't zipping around faster than the human eye moves at Nationals last month either." Tatsuki grinned as they approached the far end of the training room, where a strange golden light was glowing, interrupted by flashes of bright blue. "Ah, cool. Mr. Tessai has Orihime and Chad strength-training against each other- Chad wails on her shields until they break or his punchin' arm gets tired, they take a break and do speed training with the kids, Orihime wails of Chad's Shield arm until he drops it or she runs out of energy. They're getting close to a speed-training break so you can ask Mr. Tessai details about Shinigami uniforms." She explained, leaning against a large boulder for cover from stray bolts of energy.
"Ah. Thank you." Uryuu nodded, moving into the lee of the boulder as well. "Do you... Do you really think you're going to be able to save Miss Rukia?"
Tatsuki sighed. "Honestly? No idea. Mr. Tessai has been the best about sharing information about the shinigami with us, but he hasn't lived there for like 100 years, and he doesn't have any idea what's changed or how strong anyone who lives there now is- maybe it'll be easy peasy lemon squeezy, maybe it'll be instant death, but..." She stopped, frowning at the floor. "-I can't explain it, but now that I know? I mean, now that I know a bit? I have to go. I have to know what's going on."
"I can recap what my father told me about my family's history with the Shinigami for your notes after training today." Uryuu offered.
"That'd be great, actually." Tatsuki nodded. "You know, you're a pretty swell guy for an academically overachieving prick that sometimes causes supernatural super-predation events."
Uryuu winced. "I- the whole thing with bait was- and I'm so sorry, this is just an explanation, not an excuse- It started because I found the notes my father took when he autopsied Opa, er, my grandfather- his father too."
"Your dad Autopsied his own father??" Tatsuki blanched.
"He autopsied my mother after she died too, and every other Quincy whose body he could get a hold of, to try to understand what... actually causes our abilities, and to know who and what is killing us." Uryuu explained. "-Like, as I found out a few weeks ago, Shinigami."
"Wait, what? What the fuck? Your dad- wait- Okay-" she sputtered, shaking her head. "Alright, alright- One, your Dad is fuckin' hardcore man. Two- Shinigami killed your grandfather? Like? that was recently, right? I though this whole war thing had been over for a while."
"Yeah that's what I thought too!" Uryuu grimaced, slightly manic. "-the last major battle between Shinigami and Quincy happened back in the 1800's and honestly it's not even clear WHY- but I got ahold of Dad's notes and he's pretty sure that- I mean, what happened was that Opa and I were out training- Dad hated it, but I needed to learn some control- and we were attacked by an entire pack of hollows. I was... six? Opa told me to run, and I got away but he didn't. I always thought he'd been torn apart by hollows, and according to Dad's notes, he had been ripped up and would have bled out in minutes, but the thing that struck the killing blow was a Shinigami's Zanpaktou."
"...Shit." Mutteres Tatsuki. "-Not Rukia?"
"No-" Uryuu shook his head, leaning against the boulder and sliding down to sit as Chad and Orihime continued their training, nearly drowning out Ichigo and Urahara's distant bellowing. "She only started her deployment in the living world back in May of this year. Whoever it was, I'd have to look up in the Seireitei's actual archives." He shrugged, taking off his glasses to clean them.
"...Like, I don't want to sound like an apologist but- if your grandpa was already, um, bleeding out- could it have been a mercy killing?" asked Tatsuki, chewing her lip.
"I've re-read my father's notes since the bait incident and ah. I am inclined to believe that's the case, but it's not entirely clear." Uryuu sighed. "The Shinigami destroyed the organ- I say organ, it's more like a systemic response like the immune system- he had the system that allows him to draw Reishi into a weapon destroyed before he had his throat cut. Maybe it was a mercy killing and the Shinigami was scared of him, so he disarmed Opa first. Maybe he neutralized him to bully a dying man. It's really impossible to tell."
"Shit, I'm sorry." Tatsuki mumbled. "-Like, I know that's not the appropriate response but I genuinely have no idea what to say other than that's fuckin' awful man."
"You know? I don't know what I'd want to hear, but that helps." Uryuu huffed a quiet laugh, holding his glasses up to the artificial sun to inspect the lenses for grime before putting them back on. "...But you can see how, reading those notes the first time, I just went... fucking red mist descending sort of thing."
"No, no I get it." She nodded. "...Does Ichigo know?"
"He knows Opa was killed by a shinigami for some reason. Doesn't know how I know and given that his dad knows my dad, and there's bad blood between them about something, I don't want Ichigo to know about my father's secret autopsies."
"You know Ichigo. He's not a narc." Tatsuki prodded Uryuu's shoulder.
"Not to cops or teachers, but he's really honest with his family and I don't want to put him in the position of having to keep an additional secret from them." Uryuu sighed.
"Who is Ichigo keeping secrets from?" asked a strange man, tall and burly with strangely sectioned hair, brass-rimmed glasses and a resplendent mustache, suddenly crouched inches from Uryuu's face.
"EEAUGH!" Uryuu shrieked and Tatsuki immediately uppercut the strange man hard enough to force him to his feet.
"TESSAI! PERSONAL SPACE! WE TALKED ABOUT THIS!" She Shouted.
"My apologies Miss Arisawa." the giant sighed, rubbing his jaw and adjusting his glasses. "-I also recall a conversation about operational security and not letting strangers in here."
"Uryuu is already aware of the greater Shinigami bullshit." Tatsuki waved. "He's here to help, can you give him the specs and details on the Shinigami uniforms we'll need?"
"I see." Tessai nodded, looking down at Uryuu with an analytical glare that made his stomach flip for some reason. He must have passed muster because Tessai nodded and turned back to Tatsuki"Yes, but since Jinta and Ururu are on assignment for the shop, Would you be so kind as to do speed training with Mr. Yasutora and Miss Inoue today instead?"
"Oh, sure!" She chirped, and immediately vaulted over the boulder with a "-LOOKOUT! TICKLE MONSTER GONNA GETCHYU!!" and received a delighted shriek from Orihime and a wail of despair from Chad.
"I didn't catch your surname, young man." Mr. Tessai addressed Uryuu.
"Oh! Um, Ishida. I'm Uryuu Ishida. Your friend? Boss? Mr. Urahara does business with my dad." He sputtered.
Tessai stared down at Uryuu with a strangely somber look for a moment before smiling and bowing politely. "Of course you are. My apologies for treating you like a stranger, Mr. Ishida."
Uryuu blinked up at him, confused.
"Why don't you come have some tea with me while we discuss uniforms?" He smiled, gesturing for Uryuu to follow him. "Miss Inoue speaks most highly of your sartorial skills."
Uryuu nodded and followed, a little more at ease but absolutely certain that wasn't even remotely what Mr. Tessai wanted to discuss.
#AEIWAM#an elephant is warm and mushy#Bleach#Bleach fanfic#ishida uryuu#orihime inoue#chad yasutora#ichigo kurosaki#kisuke urahara#yoruichi shihouin#long post
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Would you care for a spare AU on this fine day?
Think about it: Moon Bunnyblade
Bunnies live on the moon in their very nice Bunny Kingdom. But even in the very nice Bunny Kingdom, there are still lost and forgotten children. Children on the streets with no one to take care of them. Seen as nuisances and not worth anyone's time. Pests.
Technoblade is not a pest. He is a very smart bunny.
I mean, how many six year olds know how to sneak to earth?
Earth is a bit scary because there are these terrifying tall swaying things (trees) and tons of these really weird colorful things (flowers). But he is a brave bunny and he persevered.
He runs into a 6 year old Wilbur and is in absolute awe of the wings on the kid's back. Wilbur, in turn, is fascinated by Techno's soft looking ears.
They click immediately.
Techno sneaks off the moon more and more, bringing sweet treats he stole to share with his first and only friend. Wilbur enjoys talking to Techno and singing him pretty songs. Best buds.
Wilbur introduces Techno to Philza and THAT is a little scarier. Philza has very sharp claws. He is very tall. And, unlike Wilbur, he can actually fly.
He also has a very shiny hat. Gold and emeralds.
Philza welcomes Technoblade into his very big house and Technoblade is happy to play with Wilbur in the massive halls. Philza is kind enough to provide a wide range of vegetarian options so Techno doesn't have to eat the stinky meat.
Philza is very curious about the Moon Bunnies legendary potions, but Techno doesn't know much about them. He's a street kid. He can't read.
Philza teaches him to read and Wilbur begins to have sooooooo much trouble dragging his friend out of the library. He tries his best to convince his Dad to un-literate his new friend.
As nice as Earth is, though, Techno still always returns to the moon. It's his home, though it begins to feel less and less that way.
He spots an old book in a trash can.
It's not particularly rare or out of the ordinary. There were tons of books on potions on the Moon. He had never gotten to have one, but he saw them all the time.
He immediately takes the dingy book with him back to earth to give to Phil. Phil is over the moon (pun intended)
The Moon Kingdom is NOT happy about this.
Little street rat running around on the earth? Who cares!
Little street rat sharing kingdom secrets to their enemies, The Elytrians? Big Problem.
The soldiers chase Techno down, intent to bring him into custody. But his is six (maybe seven, now) and he is afraid. So he runs, as fast as he can, to the one place that feels safe.
He ends up really REALLY injured and collapses in the woods outside of whatever city the Elytrians live in.
Wilbur was expecting his friend to come that day and goes out to look for him, only to find him in a puddle of blood unconscious and FREAKS OUT. He runs to get his dad, but he is so upset that it takes Philza a while to figure out what happened. When Philza does figure it out, he goes out and carefully picks up the little bunny and brings him back to be helped.
Its a good thing Techno gave him that potion book otherwise Techno would be dead. As it is, he loses a foot, but he will live.
The Bunny Kingdom sends a diplomat and demands that Philza overturns the criminal and the book.
Philza refuses both and the Bunny Kingdom says that it will be seen as a declaration of war.
Philza says bring it.
Aaaaaand that's all I got! Philza probably crushes the bunnies and keeps his new fluffy son. Honestly, he is really soft and fluffy. Very cuddle-able. He's probably going to insist on carrying him everywhere, he is so incredibly soft.
A mean kick, though. Best to stay on the footless side when you demand he eats broccoli.
Sometimes you send me banger asks like this and I keep them hostage in my inbox for over a month (this one is from December 2023) and I feel bad but I do this because I wanna reread them over and over and over again. I love this one in particular, this is just so HNNNN
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Yandere Alphabet
:Tartaglia
TW/CW: yandere topics(kidnapping, murder, ect), unedited
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Tartaglia
Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?
Tartaglia loves buying his darling expensive gifts and taking them on trips- he just loves looking after them! he's also the type to have a hand holding his darling all the time, if he isn't holding them- he is, you just can't see where his hand is
Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?
Very. Tartaglia enjoys killing those that get in the way of him and his darling, they were in the way, they deserved to die!
Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?
he does mock his darling a little, mostly teasing them for how easy it was for him to get them there, even with the resistence they gave him.
Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?
he does kill, and he's rather controlling.. but he won't go much further then that with going directly against his darling.
Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?
Tartaglia has to keep a lot of secrets from his darling, mostly due to his job as a harbinger, as much as he wants to tell them everything, there are some things that must stay hidden. he does tell them everything about his family and homeland- He'll tell them everything that won't get them hurt.
Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?
Tartaglia would find it entertaining to see his darling attempty to fight against him- I mean.. Do you really think you could stop him? you're his now. That wasn't an option.
Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?
He enjoys hunting his darling down, he finds it thrilling, the man loves fighting. although when he's in a bad mood, he just wishes you'd be good and stay at home, it'd be much easier that way.
Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?
when he gets them back home when he's in a bad mood from work. He's not great to be around when uoset, he didn't mean to hurt you. he just needs you to obey him.
Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?
Tartaglia wants a tame life in the wilderness of Sneznaya, one where he and his darling live together is a cabin far away with a few kids. He would love a future like that, he hopes his darling would also want that.. He'd even settle for 1 kid! He just wants them to live comfortably as a family.
Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?
He is very jealous. He'd see you chatting with a stranger, no flirting from either person and he'll wrap his arms around you and glare at the person until they leave- only to smile so happily at you and change the conversation to something else.
Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?
He's like a puppy- or a ginger cat, very affectionate and stupid, he loves his darling, and they make him happy, let him give you kisses and cuddle you.
Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?
Tartaglia takes you to a restaurant, where he's made all the preparations. he'll ask yopu over a nice dinner to date him- he doesn't even do it dramatically, he'd have completely forgotten his original plan by the time you both started eating. and eventually he just asks- just blurts out "will you be my -?"
Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else
yes. Tartaglia is very different- his true colours are violent and wat you'd expect from a war criminal- but normally he's a happy sweet guy, don't get him wrong! he's kind and he loves you, he's a family man in his heart, but when it comes to protecting his darling, or worse.. having to keep them from going against him? a flip switches in his brain and suddenly, he's not so sweet.
Naughty: How would they punish their darling?
it'a a range of things, in some cases, he stops giving you gifts and presents in other cases he'll not give you food- in others, he'll hit(mostly a slap). though that is rare.. it does happen.
Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?
He keeps his darling with him as much as he physically can- Tartaglia does need to leave them for work and he hates when he has to do that, because then he can't protect you(he'll have some fatui scouts watching you), no matter where you go- he's watching.
Patience: How patient are they with their darling?
a large amount, he is fairly patient, the man enjoys fishing- he knows patience, but.. don't makr him wait too long.
Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?
He can't move on- he mourns them everyday if their dead. if they leave or escape- he searches for them everyday, he will hunt them down until he's dead.
Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?
no and no. His darling is his. he chooses what happens to what is his.
Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?
A part of him is just possessive- he's seen what happens to people in horrible situations like the abyss or falling into the hands of another one of the harbingers. He doesn't want that for his darling.
Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?
Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?
not much :>
Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?
his work- that's the only real guilt he has, that he has to leave you constantly due to his work.
Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?
yes. he would. He'll do anything to keep you with him, even if it hurts him.. and you. But it hurts him more :<
Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?
He will worship his darling- especially in bed, he throws love at them, he worships the ground they walk on.
Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?
probably a year, maybe a little longer. but not multiple years- he is not that patient. Once he's obsessed, he will take action the moment he has a plan.
Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?
Yes.
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Bombastic Side-Eye
Team black supporters: Alicent is literally stealing Rhaenyra's claim on the throne AND GIVING IT TO AEGON!!! He is a rapist and a drunkard. He literally raped Helaena. Her own daughter! What is she even thinking?!! And team green supporters are happy?!!
*Me and any other sensible Team green supporter thinking about how awful Aegon is and completely hating on Aegon*:
So I got this comment. I'm sorry I didn't answer earlier.
Alicent in the show was 18 years old when Aegon was born. This is a really young age to become a parent and you can't expect her to be good at parenting. Right? Also, in my opinion she only saw two types of parents in her youth (I mean before she got married)
Otto, her own father who wanted to use her for gaining more political power. He readily gave her up to Viserys knowing very well what would happen, heck he probably wanted it to happen so his blood could be on the iron throne. So, Otto was a manipulative parent.
Viserys, Rhaenyra's father and Alicent's husband. He neglected Rhaenyra one might argue he loved her and spoiled her (which is true) but he didn't prepare her for this world they lived in and this family she was born in. Even after Aegon was born and there was another suitable heir to the throne he didn't tell her what to do if he tries to usurp the throne. His other children completely neglected and that is clear enough from his actions. So, Viserys was a neglectful parent.
These were the men she saw raising children and of course she would act like they did. So,
She neglected Aegon's needs which led to him becoming the horrible person he is when he is crowned king. Like Viserys.
2. She decided to wed Heleana to Aegon for political gain even though she obviously knew what kind of a person he was. Like Otto
3. She manipulated Aemond and told him bad things about team green to further make him hate them (he obviously hates them for the eye). Like Otto.
See House Of The Dragons is just a show about which war criminals you support and I will stand by, Lady Alicent Of House Hightower, The Dowager Queen, The Queen In Chains, Wife Of Viserys Targaryen, Mother Of Aegon, Aemond, Heleana and Daeron Targaryen till my final breath!
GIVE MY QUEEN A BREAK YA'ALL SHOULD UNDERSTAND AND SUPPORT HER LIKE YOU UNDERSTAND RHAENYRA!!!😅
#alicent hightower#anti team black#anti rhaenyra targaryen#pro team green#team alicent#queen alicent#criston cole#lucerys velaryon#anti daemon targaryen#anti lucerys velaryon#baela targaryen#rhaena targaryen#baela and rhaena#aegon ii targaryen#anti aegon ii targaryen#heleana targaryen#anti otto hightower#otto hightower#anti viserys i targaryen#rhaenyra targaryen#aemond targaryen#aemond one eye#hotd aemond#viserys targaryen#heleana#pro alicent hightower
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Aemond Targaryen - Sex and Pleasure
A series of headcanons of how Aemond is in bed with his lovers- male or female.
I have other shit planned for my favorite war criminal, but I figured I'd get my foot through the door with something fun first. ;3c
With Men
Aemond harbors no fondness for men, I’m afraid. He’s had almost nothing but terrible experiences with the same sex his entire youth, and it has heavily painted his behaviors in adulthood. (Mommies boy w daddy issues wombo combo, here.)
When he beds men, he does it solely for the immediate pleasure- and he is not kind about it.
That isn’t to say he’s cruel in the sense of his brother, though cruel is still not an inaccurate word in itself.
Aemond’s cruelty varies widely, however.
He is anything from an impish torturer to downright violent.
On his good days, he takes the former— teasing, teasing, teasing. He’ll make you beg, he’ll make you sob. You’ll be aching, burning, pleading, ready to gnaw off your own fucking foot before he gives you- and himself- the satisfaction of watching you come undone with the force of the Fourteen Flames.
You’re too limp to notice that he’s yet to cum- yet to even undress half the time- and he is simpering in your ear all the while. “Is that the best you could do for your Prince..? Tsk. Shameful.”
On his bad days though..?
Most can’t tell if you’ve come from a fuck or a fight.
Bruises, bites so hard he draws blood, absolute downright aggression from the deepest, darkest, most pent up parts of his soul. He spares you not a word, simply takes what he needs with the force of the Dragon in his veins. The only noise you are afforded are his grunts of exertion, burning through the rage he keeps so carefully locked away.
Things shift only slightly if you end up someone he likes— or rather, a favored prostitute among the pack.
With you, he likes to play out stories.
Sitting leisurely in a chair, a glass of wine in his hand, his eyepatch discarded- a discreet sign of his favor toward you- as he lets you lick at his boots, take them undone with teeth and tongue. If you can manage it fast enough, you’re rewarded with a taste of his wine.
Straight from his mouth.
He likes when you call him ‘King’, when you fulfill those fantasies he keeps so desperately tamped down, always concerned with being the good son, with not contributing to his mothers’ pain.
Otherwise he rewards you with conversation, and a- well- a lack of aggression or meanness, though if you had not witnessed that prior, you would not know you were being treated with any sort of kindness or gentleness from him.
With you- and only with you- might he sit for leisurely time even after the activities have subsided. Regaling you or even humoring your own tales when he finds himself unable or unwilling to keep conversation.
Perhaps, you might even get to see the Prince sleep. The only time you will ever see the gentleness his heart can hold.
But With Women
Ah… this poor, sweet boy.
All that aggression vanishes with women.
Now I must say, there is no casual experiences with women. None. Natta. If you think Aemond straight then he remains virginal, dry as Dornish sands until the day he finds love or betrothal.
As it stands, Aemond loves the women of his family and has seen too intimately the suffering caused by a mans’ wanton debauchery- everything from the endless stress wrought upon his mother, to the aching loneliness of his sister.
Not to mention, he daresay dislikes to mention or even think of, the things that his disgusting brother Aegon would do to the innocent women of the Red Keep.
It is for this, he only takes you once you are well and truly his, in heart if not in name.
Where he would be commanding, commandeering, even draconian with men- he is utterly pliant for the woman of his soul.
(Service top, through and through.) Aemond will border on being a sub with you, though his own pride and desire for control in all things prevents him- so expect for a very, very affectionate and almost needy top. You'll be hard pressed to get an outright dom from him, especially with how much he loves you and wants you to feel it.
He will be as gentle or as rough as you like, but affectionate always. Even his teases are sweet, calling you things like Trapped Dove as he kisses the sides of your face.
In truth, teasing would not be frequent. What Aemond feels, he feels entirely, wholly and completely. He is struck with desire for you abruptly, viciously, and it spurs him to take you without pretext or embellishment- he has no need of it with you.
Kisses, gentle in feeling but devouring in emotion. Cradling you like glass even as it feels like he wishes to slot you inside his ribs and keep you with him forever.
Asking you what you want, if what he is doing is good, if he needs to do anything better, if you needed more or less. His words are confident, but his eyes are pleading and tender, unsure. Always somewhat unsure with himself when it came to you.
The first time you see his false eye, you were the one that had to take the eyepatch off.
Riding him in his lap, your back to the fire, his stare upon you reverent as ever. You could see the sweat around the patch, could imagine how uncomfortable it must feel.
It hurt you slightly, to know he would make himself more uncomfortable out of fear that you would be disgusted.
Off it came, faster than he could react- refuse- and you were kissing the scarring around the socket even as you whimpered pitifully for him.
That was the fastest he’d cum with you.
He revels in being able to grab you in ways that would be violent- frightening- with any other man.
A hand firmly around your throat, grabbing your jaw, bunched loosely in the hair at the base of your skull.
The way even as he holds you in such a threatening fashion, you remain utterly lax- utterly trusting.
That delicate feeling of your little pulse thundering away against his calloused palm. But not from terror- no- anticipation.
It was when he did things like this with you that he understood his Dragon had to be Vaghar- a woman.
There was no greater exhilaration or satisfaction in the world than the gentle taming of a woman, no matter how timid she may already be. Great dragon, or delicate Lady.
Even if Aemond were not already utterly repulsed by Aegon, he would always feel a condescending pity toward his older brother for not being able to understand- let alone indulge- in the finer things such as this.
Always for the quick fuck, violent, forceful, forced.
He would never understand the sight of soft, firelit eyes. Of hair willingly loosed for him, of angelic plush lips parted. The way he could take flesh to teeth or blade and you would merely say his name, a soft croon, a loving plea.
He is as fond of the aftermath as he is the act. Kisses and soft, hoarse voices. Talking to you of anything- asking if there is anything you need tended to. But most of all, laying his head upon your chest- utterly exposed- and feeling nothing but love and comfort and safety.
His. His. His. All his.
#aemond#aemond targaryen#aemond one eye#aemond kinslayer#aemond x you#aemond smut#prince aemond#aemond x reader#house of the dragon#hotd
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Do you have any headcanons on being in a relationship with Joshua Graham? Sfw & nsfw if possible. I love 1 (one) bloodthirsty Mormon war criminal
Joshua is a very hard man to bond with. He's not very forthcoming with personal information, let alone his own feelings.
It starts out slowly, there isn't even a hint of romance until you break his walls down.
Not only does his religion dictate his life, his past haunts him. He's always been a difficult man and he knows this.
He believes he is sparing you by rejecting your love.
However, persistence is key.
Soon he'll allow you to see the dark side of him, he tells you about every horrific thing he's done and how he's trying to convince God to forgive him.
He expects to scare you off. It doesn't work.
Then comes the gifts. He isn't much of a gift giving person, but when he finds a rock he believes you may like, he brings it back with him.
Telling you how it stood out to him, just like you. He'll often have a Bible passage to go along with it, and some kind of deeper meaning.
He uses this cover for how he feels. If he puts a lesson to everything, he can deny that he does these things for pleasure.
Joshua will eventually let you touch him. Over his bandages at first.
Hand holding, cuddling, hugging. Always in private.
Then he allows you to help change his bandages. His skin stings in the open air, yet when you press your lips to his exposed fingers, the pain dulls.
Kisses soon become common place during bandage changes, even spilling out into daily life. Kisses over where his lips are covered, it makes him feel silly but he enjoys it.
NSFW
If you thought it took a long time just to hold his hand, it will take even longer to get him into bed.
From his religion to physical trauma, it's difficult for him to even entertain the notion of sex.
There will be many times the two of you get hot and heavy, and it just ends with him getting up and walking away.
He has great self control, except when it comes to you. Yet he's afraid to disappoint, his entire body is covered in burns and his cock doesn't exactly work as it used to.
If he's able to get past the premarital sex, and his body issues, he is a very generous lover.
His primary focus is your body and your pleasure.
Joshua has skilled fingers, the way he rubs against your cunt and teases your clit. His tongue latched onto a nipple.
He's playing your body like an instrument, your moans are the melody. He likes to hear you.
He gets tense when you opt to touch him, he is worried you'll find him repulsive. Lots of praise is in order.
Tries to be gentle, but often finds himself lost in your body. Thrusting like a desperate animal, drinking in the wet sounds of his cock filling you up.
As much as he comes to enjoy the act of sex itself, he enjoys the aftermath even more.
Laying in bed, curled against one another. Breathing the same heavy air, the smell of sex drenching your skin.
#Fallout#fallout x reader#fallout imagines#fallout headcanons#fallout new vegas#Fnv#joshua graham#Joshua Graham x reader#Smut#Headcanons
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A Shade Darker than Red: Part 10
Masterpost
Dick felt like his already fragile hold on his family was slipping through his fingers. The death of the clown of Arkham had gone cold and no new clues were appearing. The stress of a possible new killer in Gotham on top of everything else was driving the Bats apart. He could almost feel the delicate threads fraying.
Damian and Tim never had the best relationship and were now constantly at each other’s throats. Tim had been caught placing explosives around Gotham and Damian had been caught with a fast acting poison on his person. Which worried him even more, if he had caught them, how much had they managed to sneak past him before he noticed?
The tension was most noted between the two younger members of the family, but it was still felt by the others. Duke looked like he wanted to pull away before the chaos turned to bloodshed and Cass was staying in Gotham only for her family and Steph. If the infighting with the family exploded into actual conflict, Dick just knew the city would pay the cost. He couldn’t imagine how terrible an idea it would be to have some kind of Gotham war or a fight for Batman’s cowl.
As with any problem with the heroes, the citizens of Gotham were the ones who suffered. There had already been another breakout from Arkham, Black Mask and the other criminal gangs were getting more violent and pushing more drugs onto the streets, and the number of unsolved murders on their docket kept rising. The city of Gotham was reaching a boiling point, and Dick was afraid the only way to stop it was for someone to ask Bruce to return to his role as Batman, but so far none of them were willing to give him a second chance after what he did.
He had, barely, managed to get his family back together at the Clocktower in an attempt to mitigate the damage, but even here it looked only moments from bloodshed. Tim and Damian were snarling at each other, Duke was putting more focus on his homework than his cases, Steph and Cass were withdrawn, leaning against and crouching on top of Barbara’s computer respectively. Babs was doing her level best to track down what little information they had and to keep ahead of the rising tide of chaos. Dick himself was caught between pacing and pulling at his long unwashed hair and getting between Tim and Damian before one of them did something they would regret.
“Tim! Damian! Both of you need to calm down!” Dick snapped.
“Tt. I am perfectly calm Grayson. It is Drake who is acting irrationally.” Damian replied immediately, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Hardly. You’re the one desperately holding onto the Robin title, as if it means anything without Batman.” Tim shot right back.
Dick had to physically pull the two of them apart after that. It was like all of their greatest strengths were coming back to bite them. Damian had inherited so much of Bruce’s characteristics, which unfortunately included his poor emotional intelligence. Plus Tim’s genius in crime solving could be turned to finding the emotional vulnerabilities in those around him, which he was always quick to exploit. Damian pulled a knife and Dick had to wrestle his youngest brother to keep him from impaling Tim with it.
A crackling tear opening up in the air of the Clocktower stopped the fight before it could escalate further. The tear widened and filled with green, swirling light. Damian slipped Dick’s hold and flung his knife into the hole in reality.
“Hey! What kind of hello is that?”
The family all tensed in confusion at the voice that sounded from the portal. The voice didn’t have anywhere near the gravitas they would expect to come from a Lazarus green opening. Two hands stuck out of the portal, one of them clutching the knife.
“I don’t mean you any harm! Please keep any further weapons to yourselves. See I have my hands up!”
After a moment a head covered in snow white hair, with a floating crown made of stars stuck itself out of the portal and looked around, seeming to gauge how likely it was to have to dodge more weapons.
“I’m keeping this by the way!” The being said as they emerged fully from the portal into the center of the Bats. They shoved the knife into their own arm and it vanished before their eyes. “Normally a good instinct, but less effective because your weapon can’t harm ghosts.”
They were even more confused as Damian was being praised and encouraged to attack first. The being, that appeared to be a male in his twenties, with a cloak made of the Aurora Borealis then smacked themself on the cheeks twice as if trying to wake themself up.
“Right, right, talk like a normal person.” He looked at them all with eyes that glowed a bright, toxic green. “My name is Danny Phantom, High King of the Infinite Realms, and Ancient of Space. I’m the Ghost King! I swear on my throne, my core, and the power of the Ancients that I mean you no harm.”
Cass relaxed and waved causing Steph to cheerfully wave as well. At her computer Babs was typing rapidly trying to find any information.
“What brings a High King to our little Clocktower?” Steph asked, trusting her fellow Batgirls to know whether this guy was a threat or not.
“Oh! You’re Spoiler!” Phantom turned to her with a broad smile. If it’s slightly too broad, broader than a human should be able to do, none of them mentioned it. He then waved back to her and Cass. “And you’re Black Bat. Oh I’m so excited to meet you, I’ve heard so much about you.”
“All good things I hope.” Steph said with a cheery smile before it dropped off her face. “Wait, how did you hear about us? You said you’re the Ghost… King…”
The realization hit the room like a tidal wave. Jason. The Ghost King had heard about them from Jason. Phantom allowed his face to fall to seriousness as well.
“It is true. Jason Todd, known as Red Hood, is currently one of my subjects.” Phantom allowed his head to hang for a moment before lifting it and fixing each of them in turn with his steady gaze. “However he is more to me than just another one of my subjects. I have adopted him into my family, so in a way, you are all part of my family. And as family I wanted to facilitate a conversation. Are you ready?”
The members of the Bat Clan were used to world shaking news but in the past couple of minutes they had been hit with a lot of curve balls even for them. The confirmation of an afterlife, that there is a monarchy that rules said afterlife, that Jason had somehow earned the favor of that monarch and that they might be able to have a conversation with Jason from the afterlife were all individually things that could shatter the foundation of their worlds. So they did what they did best and compartmentalized and put all that information to the side to freak out about later.
When he had received nods from everyone he gestured to the still swirling portal and… after a moment… out from the portal came the ghost of Jason Todd.
Jason immediately had to turn intangible as another blade zipped through his body while the rest of his siblings screamed and made far too much noise. Fortunately Danny had closed the portal after Jason was through and the knife embedded in the wall behind him. He pulled the blade free and tossed it back to Damian.
“Good throw Demon Brat.” He said with a chuckle, before he gave the rest of his siblings a sheepish look. “Uh. Hi, everyone.”
Dick immediately threw himself at Jason and wrapped him up completely in an octopus style hug. Jason floated with his brother in his arms then had to catch Cass who flung herself on top of the pair, almost bringing them all to the ground. Steph was only a moment behind and even Damian came and leaned against Jason, though he kept his arms crossed as if he was too cool for a hug. His stoic affection was ruined somewhat by Duke wrapping him up in the group hug.
“Are you all insane?” Tim shouted from where he was standing back with his bo staff in his hands. “You can’t just trust an entity this powerful’s word! This could be an illusion or a method of mind control!”
“Do you have any idea what would happen to me if I broke an oath on my own core?” Phantom asked with a raised eyebrow. The Ghost King was currently floating over the hugging Bats with a warm smile on his face.
“Yeah, I’m sure it’s awful. Even if we could trust that a core is a real thing, much less capable of holding you to an oath, there is so much flexibility in what you swore!” Tim argued, his staff shaking in his hands. “Jason! If that’s really you, what is verification code Alpha, Sierra, Tango!”
Jason rolled his eyes for a moment before he began rattling off a reply.
“Sierra, Uniform, Kilo, Mike, Yankee, Kilo, November, Uniform, Tango, Zulu.”
“See! That’s not the proper reply at all!”
“Yeah it is Replacement.” Jason said with a laugh. “I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what I would say if you asked me to do some stupid coded verification phrase.”
“No it's… wait a minute. Hey!” Tim looked offended for a moment before he finally decided to set paranoia aside for once in his life and dropped his bo to the side. He took a running jump and landed on top of the pile, finally overpowering Jason’s flight and bringing the whole family to the ground while Danny laughed uproariously above them. Barbara wheeled her chair over to join them, wiping tears from her eyes.
The happy, tearfilled reunion was interrupted by one of Barbara’s proximity alarms going off. She turned back to the computer, the Bat pile slowly breaking up, though still staying close to each other to see a woman with long red hair and a pile of pizzas in her arms at the bottom of the elevator. Babs turned on the intercom and they could hear her talking.
“Hi? Oh Hello! My name is Jazz, I’m with Danny and Jason, fully human person just here to help break up the tension of a very stressful conversation. I swear on the Infinite Realms and the grave of my brother that I don’t mean any harm.”
Babs looked to Jason and Danny to see them both nodding and keyed in the control for the elevator to open for Jazz. They waited in almost total silence, all of the siblings with at least a hand on Jason as if he would disappear if they took their eyes off him for the elevator to come up. As soon as the door opened to Oracle’s control room Jazz took a bold step out, then immediately ducked and lifted the top pizza box to catch a flying knife from Damian.
“Jason, you were right, Robin absolutely would greet all three of us with a knife.” Then she turned to address Damian. “Please remember, I’m human and I won’t heal like ghosts do, so be more careful in the future.” Damian actually looked slightly guilty, though maybe that was for being so easily predicted. Then Jazz pulled the knife free of the box and pocketed it. “Also I’m keeping this.”
Soon enough the entire family was eating, pizzas spread around the room. They had remembered that Damian was vegetarian, that Steph was an animal and liked pineapples on her pizza and that Cass and Tim would eat anything so long as it wasn’t moving. Danny had summoned a ghostly pizza from a smaller version of his portal for him to share with Jason. Even one of the pizzas being slightly stabbed didn’t inhibit their enjoyment any.
Dick wanted nothing more than to enjoy just eating pizza with his family again, he loved being able to see them all smiling, all together, but he knew this wasn’t all there was to this. He might not be as paranoid as Tim or Bruce, but he still had his own moments. A king of a different dimension didn’t orchestrate a reunion like this for no reason. Once everyone had a bit of their food, he wiped his mouth and sat forward, drawing the attention of the others who all settled as well.
“Not that I’m not happy for another chance to see my Jay-bird…” Dick said, trying to fight down the grief of seeing the ghost of his brother in front of him. “But I’m sure there is a real reason you’re allowing this conversation.”
Danny nodded and flicked his wrist causing the remains of his ghost pizza to disappear. He floated lower and drew the attention of the entire room, living and dead, before he began.
“It’s time to talk about the Curse of Gotham City.”
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Rachel
Nickname ( honey
Toshinori Yagi( my hero academia
She
My chacter is a pro hero her hero name is siren her quirks are she has the ability to control men women and creatures and make them do whatever she wants and she can control water she teaches at the ua and her and Toshinori Yagi like eacthother she younger then him she around Aizawa age she bff with him and mic anyway her and toshinori dance around eacthother alot and act like a married couple but they don't start dateimg till after the league of villans attack usj center and Toshinori finally confess to her and they start rk date he treats her like a queen when he retires she stays being a hero until after the war with the league of villians when Toshinori ask her to marry him and she says yes and she tells him she also pregnant *
Here you go! I hope you like it!! 😁
Masterlist ~ MHA Masterlist ~ #2
Give You So Much More - All Might/Toshinori Yagi x Fem! Reader
1923 words
Warnings: none except slight spoilers if you haven't seen MHA. (If there is any, please let me know so I can add.)
+Yagi and Siren have played the cat and mouse game ever since they met. Yagi never made a move because he thought he was too much her senior. They flirt on the constant nothing ever comes until after the USJ incident. The scare motivates him to confess.
"Who do you think for class roasters?" I asked effectively starting the meeting. Deliberations started up. We were in the days between the Entrance Exam and announcing to the students about admission.
"I want Bakugou and Iida in 1-A, no question." Aizawa said. No one argued with him. We all made notes.
"What about Monoma Neito and Midoriya Izuku?" I asked. I saw Yagi perk up and looked at him. He hadn't shown that much interest in the whole time we've been sorting. I lightly kicked him for his attention. He looked at me and I raised my eyebrow in question. He gave me a smile and waved me off.
"I'll take Monoma. He's got a great quirk but needs some humbling." Vlad said. "I think Midoriya should be in 1-A."
"No." Aizawa denied immediately. Everyone made a complaint. I saw Yagi deflate a little.
"Aizawa, he had the highest rescue score. In all my years working here and when I went here, I don't ever remember someone getting a perfect in rescue." I defended the young man. I shared a look with Yagi. "Sure he didn't do well in combat but that can be taught. That can be learned. His fervor to rescue can't be. He has amazing potential."
"Siren..."
"No Aizawa. You need to give that kid a chance. He's got something special." I gave him a firm look. He sighed heavily.
"Fine. Midoriya is in class 1-A."
"Yes!" Mic cheered. There were others who gave sounds of excitement. I looked at Yagi and he looked relieved.
"Okay. Let's take a break." Nezu said. After a few minutes, I found Yagi outside. I walked up to him.
"Now tell me why I vouched for Midoriya so hard." I bumped my hip against his. He chuckled and looked at me.
"What do you mean?" He asked coyly.
"I mean, when he was mentioned you perked up and when Airawa said no, you deflated." I said. I poked his chest. He just smiled but he didn't answer. "Come on. Don't make me sing to make you tell me."
"Fine, fine." He glared playfully. "I just see something in young Midoriya. It kind of reminds me of a younger me."
"Uh huh..." I narrowed my eyes on him. He wasn't telling me everything. "Fine, don't tell me everything but I didn't lie when I vouched for him. I believe in him."
"Thank you." I nodded and turned to go back inside.
"You can thank me by buying me lunch."
"You got it!" He called after me.
*Time Skip*
After a long first day, I was alone in the teachers lounge. I was lazily stirring my tea free handed with my quirk. I was writing notes on the students' beginning progress. It wasn't the best for any of them but what do expect for a Criminal tactics and psychology class. I looked over my shoulder when the door opened.
"Hey there handsome." I said when I saw All Might. He smiled at me before in a poof, he was just Yagi again. "How was your first day?"
"It was decent." He rubbed the back of his neck.
"Want some tea?" I ask. He nods. I got up and walked over to the cabinet to grab his favorite tea. "I can make it. You don't have to."
"It's fine." I said waving my hand at him. I waved my hand and water came from the facet into the kettle. I turned on the heat to start it. I went back to the table and grabbed my cup.
"How was your first day? How did they do in class?" He asked, stepping up closer as I leant against the side of the table. I took a drink of my tea.
"Only a handful of all of them had any idea of what my class was about." We chucked.
"Who were those few?"
"Todoroki, Iida. No surprise there." I laughed. "Monoma, Kuroiro... Oh, and surprisingly Kaminari." I said, glancing at my notes.
"Well at least you're not starting from scratch with everyone."
"You said it." I said. The kettle started to whistle. I set my cup down and walked over. I turned off the heat before realizing I didn't get a cup out. I sigh and open the cabinet. All the rest of the cups were on higher shelves. I stood on my tip toes to try and reach one. Before I could resort to climbing on the counter, a hand reached past mine and grabbed a cup.
"I got it." Yagi said softly behind me. I looked at him over my shoulder where he stood right behind me.
"Okay." I reached for his tea and handed it to him. He put it in the cup and I poured some hot water in his cup.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome." We stared at each other for a moment. I bit my lip as my heart started to beat faster.
"You know, Rachel. I..."
"Siren!" Mic's voice echoed into the room and I sighed. Yagi coughed a little and stepped back. Mic and Aizawa walked into the teachers lounge. "Oh, hey All Might."
"Hi Mic." Yagi greeted before turning to fix up his tea. "Thanks for the Tea Rachel."
"No problem." I nodded and walked back over to the table. Yagi bid all of us goodbye before leaving the room. It was silent for a Minute.
"Sooo..."
"Don't even." I interrupted Mic. Aizawa laughed as Mic complained.
*Day of USJ incident*
The rest of the staff and I rushed towards the USJ. Upon hearing the story from Iida, we all jumped into action. After arriving, the main villains unfortunately got away. I had sung the remaining villains into custody and the police vans. I glanced over at the ambulance where All Might and Midoriya were at. I wanted to go check on him so bad but had a job to do.
"Go on." I turned to see Mic. "Go on and check on him. I know you need to."
"Fine. But only if you go with Aizawa." I say. He hesitated.
"Go you two. We got this." Midnight pushed us both in our respective direction. We didn't argue and ran off. Both Yagi and Midoriya were half conscious when I joined them in the ambulance. I accompanied them back to UA and I waited in the corner of the room until they were deemed stable and okay.
"You both are insane." I sat on a chair between them and propped my feet on the edge of Yagi's bed. "Being reckless with your quirk is almost identical in both of you."
"I, I, I. Um..." Midoriya started to stutter.
"Relax, Midoriya. I know about the quirk transfer."
"You do?!' Yagi asked surprised.
"Yes."
"How?!" Midoriya squeaked.
"I figured it out." I said. "I did a little research after the selection meeting. I wanted to know what was so special about you. To my surprise, you were quirkless until right after the Entrance exam. Then I studied your quirk from the footage and since then and noticed the similarities to a certain someone. Not to mention Aizawa being suspicious about you two and coming to me for my opinion."
"Oh..." I looked at Yagi.
"Also, All might here wasn't very sly about his concern and interest for you." I smirked at Yagi. He chuckled and nodded. "Don't worry your secret is safe with me."
"Thank you." They both said.
After a while, Midoriya was allowed to go home and it was just me and Yagi. It was silent as I made a phone call to check on Aizawa. I looked at Yagi to see him sipping of the tea I made him as I talked to Mic
"He's stable and resting." I said after hanging up the phone.
"Good." Yagi nodded. He looked off into space. I went and knelt next to him.
"What's on your mind?" I asked gently.
"That's the closest I have been to death since the accident." He said while placing a hand on his scar. "And all I could think about was making sure those kids were safe and how I never..." He trailed off.
"Never what?" I set my hand on his. He turned and looked me in the eye.
"Never told you how I truly felt about you." He admitted. I looked at him in anticipation, willing him to continue. "I have had feelings for you for a while. I was content with the flirting and dancing we have been doing. I never acted on my feelings because of our age difference and..." I cut him off by leaning up and kissing him. I felt him freeze for a second before returning the kiss.
"About time you said something. I was beginning to think it was just me." I admitted. He chuckles.
"Definitely not." He leant forward and kissed me sweetly. "Now how about after I heal up and rest, I take you on a proper date."
"Sounds amazing."
“I plan to give you so much, Honey.”
*Fast Forward*
I return home only to smell the familiar cologne in the foyer. I glance down to see Toshinori's shoes. I smiled and quickly kicked off my shoes to go find him. I found him on the balcony. He was just standing there with his eyes closed. I lean against the doorway.
"Darling?" I call out to him softly. He looks over at me and smiles.
"You're alright."
"Of course." I walked over and wrapped my arms around him. He pulls me into his side. "Everyone is. Maybe a little bruised and some with broken bones but we're all alive."
"Thank god." He buries his face in my hair. He sighed heavily. "It's over."
"Yes. At least for now."
"Yes." He nodded pulling back. "But I know the future is in good hands. Young Midoriya, Young Bakugou, and the rest will keep the world safe."
"I'm confident in them as well." I agreed. "Confident enough that I am thinking of retiring or reducing my time as a hero."
"Really?" He looked at me surprised.
"Yes. I've done my time. I'll continue to teach of course but I want to start a normal life." We stood there in silence before he pulled my chin up to kiss me.
"Honey?"
"Yes?"
"I have a question for you."
"Okay."
"Marry me?" He said simply. I was stunned for a second before smiling. I kissed him softly. I didn't care that it was a simple proposal. I didn't need an extravagant proposal from the man I love. I just need the man.
"I would love to. Yes." He smiled wide and hugged me tight. I chuckled and hugged him back.
"You've made me the happiest man alive, Honey." I nuzzled his neck.
"Toshinori."
"Yes?"
"There is another reason I'm cutting back on hero work."
"What is it?" He asked, giving me a questioning look. I could see the worry growing in his eyes and on his face. I chuckled.
"Well." I took his hand and placed it on my stomach. He looks between his hand and my eyes.
"Are you ..."
"Pregnant." I nodded. "I found out just before everything. I didn't have time to tell you."
"Oh my..." I saw tears fill his eyes and he set his forehead on my shoulder. He laughed. "I never thought I would have any of this."
"Now you do. And I plan to give you much more." He lifted his head and looked into my eyes.
"I love you Rachel."
"And I love you."
Tag List: @iris-shihabi @cl0verbby @lilparcheesie @keigos-baby-bird @evilunicorns4minions
#imagine#imagines#my hero academia#mha x reader#mha#mha imagines#boku no hero academia#my hero academia imagines#bnha#bnha imagines#mha x oc#my hero academia x reader#my hero academia x oc#bnha x reader#bnha x fem!reader#bnha x oc#yagi toshinori#toshinori yagi x reader#toshirori Yagi x you#all might#mha all might#all might x reader#all might x you#all might x oc#boku no hero imagines#all might imagine#Toshinori yagi imagine#boku no hero acadamia oc#my hero academia fanfiction#requested
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Prompt: Spencer trying to cook for his partner? ❤️🩹 (hope this is a fun one)
anon, i could not have asked for a better prompt! i've been meaning to write something like this for a while and you finally pushed me to write it so thank you! ❤️
"Burnt Food" ~ S. Reid
Summary: With Y/N and Spencer's wedding anniversary right around the corner, Spencer is determined to make his wife the most memorable meal she's ever had. However… the dinner ends up being memorable in a way Spencer couldn't have never hoped for less.
Pairing: Husband!Spencer Reid x Fem!Wife!Reader (because i'm obsessed with the idea of marrying this man, fight me)
Word Count: 781
Content Warning: mention of food and alcohol, mild sexual content, implied smut at the end but no details
Genre: lots of Fluff. as i always say, what else did y'all expect from me 😭
Extra Notes: yes the title is stolen from The Good Doctor bc i just started rewatching it hehehehe
Based On the Prompt: "Spencer trying to cook for his partner?"
Originally Written: 09/16/22
Beta Read By: @reidsbookclub (love u forever bestie)
Criminal Minds masterlist can be found here!
Touches Prompts can be found here!
ofwilliamandwalter's ask box can be found here!
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When it comes to cooking, Spencer's skills are… less than satisfactory, we'll say.
It wasn't like he hadn't tried being a decent chef. Many nights, he'd found himself staring at a fancy Pinterest recipe, hoping and praying and crossing his fingers that it would turn out right.
Still, between his father never teaching him how to cook and his mother being unable to cook at all, Spencer never really could get the hang of sautéing vegetables to the correct consistency or browning ground beef just right.
But with his one year wedding anniversary right around the corner, he was determined to make a meal so spectacular that it would put even Gordon Ramsay to shame.
In the days leading up to his anniversary, Spencer spent every free moment he had browsing the internet for the perfect dinner recipe. Spaghetti? No, too stereotypical. Roasted turkey? No, too difficult. Steak? No, too stereotypical and too difficult.
Finally, just as Spencer clicked on what he swore would be his last article for the night, he spotted it.
Garlic butter salmon.
"How hard could salmon be?" he pondered. "Surely it's like chicken. Chicken's pretty easy."
Oh, how Spencer underestimated the intricacy of cooking the perfect salmon.
An hour into his cooking endeavors, he found himself extremely disappointed by the food in front of him and slightly annoyed with himself for insisting that his wife get a manicure while he prepared her surprise.
He didn't even hear the door open as he stood in horror, staring at mushy and overcooked asparagus, rice pilaf that was dry enough to be mistaken for dog food, and what was left of the now shredded salmon. "Perhaps I underestimated the instructions when the article insisted that salmon could fall apart easily if not flipped properly," Spencer internally admitted to himself.
The only thing that had made it out intact from Spencer's disastrous cooking attempt was the bottle of chardonnay, which he now feared he'd somehow manage to screw up too. "Does she even like this brand? What good is an eidetic memory if I can't even remember what brand of wine she likes?" his inner monologue war continued.
"Spence?" Y/N asked softly, watching her husband stand over the stove in what could only be described as sheer terror.
Spencer turned his head slowly, wishing he could disappear. "Yeah?" he replied in the same tone, the feeling of pricking tears burning his eyes.
"What are you doing?" she further inquired, more so having reference to his facial expression rather than his actual actions.
"Um…" he hesitated, trying to figure out exactly how he should explain himself, "Well… I wanted to make you dinner for our anniversary."
"Uh huh."
"But, uh… it didn't work out very well."
Y/N's expression softened as she looked over the food. "Well, that was very kind of you."
Spencer's mouth went into that signature scrunch like it always did as he continued to hold back tears of disappointment. "But… I ruined it."
Y/N reached up, running her fingers delicately along Spencer's shoulder. "Honey, you didn't ruin anything. I prefer my asparagus well done anyway," she said, finishing her statement with a giggle.
His scrunch formed into a half-smile as he looked down at his wife. "I wanted to make you this nice dinner as a gesture to say 'thank you for always putting up with me' but I fear I've made the problem worse."
A laugh made its way out of Y/N's lips—Spencer's favorite noise to ever grace his eardrums. "There is no other man I'd ever want to put up with other than you," she smiled, her hand moving from his shoulder to the loose ringlets at the bottom of his neck. "I mean, I don't know any other man I'd willingly take to a movie theater just to watch a four-hour-long Russian movie with him."
Finally, for the first time all day, a laugh spilled from Spencer's mouth. "Thank you. I appreciate it."
Y/N's other hand made its way to Spencer's chest, her thumb rubbing small circles near the collar of his button-down. "At least the intermission was fun," she smirked, having flashbacks to all that they'd put that family bathroom through.
Spencer's eyebrows raised suggestively. "You know… we still have a perfectly good bottle of wine to celebrate with," he proposed, moving his hands to sit lightly on her hips.
Y/N leaned up to leave a long, hungry, and somewhat sloppy kiss on Spencer's buttery lips. "At least the garlic butter tasted good," she thought to herself.
Their lips chased each other as they wandered through their shared apartment, Spencer's burnt rice and shredded salmon soon being long forgotten.
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YALL I CANNOT EXPRESS TO YALL HOW MUCH I LOVE THIS BLURB 😭
I've been meaning to write a fic like this ever since I saw this post by @radiant-reid and I am so so so happy it turned out as well as it did. I've loved this concept ever since I first read the post and I'm so happy I finally got a chance to write my own little version of it.
Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed! This is definitely one of my favorite fluffy things I've written recently. I think it's so cute and simple but so sweet.
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